Breakdown
by malicious pixie
Summary: Story about Ran and Crawford finding out that they have something in common. That they have both reached their breaking points. Yaoi. Multiple pairings.
1. Crawford

Summary: Story about Ran and Crawford finding out that they have something in common. That they have both reached their breaking points. Yaoi. Multiple pairings.

Breakdown

Chapter 1: **Crawford**

Schuldig was a nuisance to put it lightly. He was loud, obnoxious and unrelenting in his quest to fill every moment of silence with the sound of his nasally voice. Whether he was whining or simply spouting useless information, Schuldig was always talking and always annoying. To him, silence was a four letter word.

Crawford had never before met anyone quite as irritating as Schuldig and he thanked the Gods every day for the fact that there was only one of him, though at the same time he cursed whoever was pulling the strings in the cosmos for saddling him with the loud-mouthed German, however talented he may be. Had Crawford foreseen his Rosenkreuz days, and were he anywhere close to being a coward, he would have shot himself then and there and avoided a future with the telepath.

Unfortunately none of that was the case and Crawford was now stuck with him. He could only be moderately thankful that the rest of the team Esset have given him was more or less quiet. Nagi kept to himself and was little to no trouble and Farfarello was good…enough as long as he was confined to his room and kept on a short leash on missions until a situation dictated otherwise.

So all the trouble and headaches revolved around the flaming head of Shuldig, the telepath with too much time on his hands and too many thoughts to share, many of which weren't even his own.

Schuldig liked to poke around in peoples' minds. Not because he was so much interested in what they were thinking, but simply because he could. At least ten times a day Crawford had to increase his mental defenses because Schuldig was trying to put a foot into his thoughts. He never succeeded of course, but Schuldig was an intensely determined individual. He would kill for a chance to poke around in Crawford's mind and that annoyed Schwartz' leader to no end. At no point was he allowed to relax around the German red-head.

His defenses were very strong, essentially impenetrable, but even the strongest fortresses eventually get worn down. Sooner or later Schuldig was going to poke a hole somewhere.

Crawford dreaded that day and it was a good thing that the German wasn't aware of his fear.

Schuldig's presence would be even less tolerable if that ever happened. Crawford wasn't sure if there was, in fact, a step beyond Schuldig's usual obnoxious self, but he figured there must be and that it would also signify the apocalypse. At least the thought of the end of the world slightly comforted him in a morbid way. If Crawford was going down, he was at least taking everyone with him.

Still, dark fantasies aside, Crawford had to live with the present, and the present involved Schuldig trying to needle his way into his mind or just generally hover around to annoy. It was another of the telepath's hobbies, to make Crawford lose his cool.

Admittedly, it didn't happen very often. Even when angry, Crawford was calm, murderously so and he hardly raised his voice, but it was still the principle of the thing, the fact that Schuldig had gotten under his skin and he was good at it…too damned good at it.

It took very little for the German to rise a notch on Crawford's irritation meter. And it required the patience of an entire fleet of Gods to withstand one day, or better yet, one conversation with the red-headed German, especially when the conversation was actually a one-sided rant about nothing, or simple, childish whining.

Like now.

"I'm BORED Bradley. Why can't we go play with the kitties?" Schuldig gestured wildly for no specific reason—Crawford wasn't watching him anyway—and the shuffle of his feet tipped a stack of papers over onto the desk. The German paid them no mind, but Crawford could feel his brow twitch in irritation. "It's been soooo long since we saw them," Schuldig continued, unhappy he was being ignored.

"We ran into them last week. That's hardly an eternity." Crawford forced the calm into his voice, though he made sure that his exasperation was at least somewhat apparent. It was a subtle warning to drop the issue.

And it fell on deaf ears.

"It is to ME, Bradley."

"Crawford."

"Braaaddleeey!"

Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get out. Schuldig."

"But-"

"Go."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"No I don't."

"Then take the time to ponder the reason when you leave my office."

"But I don't want to."

"I don't care. Now go."

"I'll be good."

"You and I both know that you are incapable of that, Schuldig."

A snicker.

"Leave."

"Fine. But you work way too much, Bradley. It wouldn't kill you to have a little fun."

"Schuldig, I will kill you if you don't leave right now."

Schuldig got up and faced his leader with a pout. "Crawford?"

"What?"

"I love you."

A shot was fired at the door but the German was long gone before the bullet hit the frame.

Crawford bowed his head and sighed, closing the lid of his laptop while replacing his gun in his shoulder holster. It was useless. The loud-mouthed German had successfully kicked him out of work-mode yet again.

He got up from his desk and neatly restacked the papers Schuldig had knocked over, frowning at the slight imprint of a dirty boot that was left on the top sheet, but it wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now so as far as he was concerned, the papers were crisp and clean.

Crawford left he pile of papers on the corner of his desk, and straightened the chairs around it after pulling on his white suit jacket. He switched the light off as he left his office and pointedly ignored the puzzled glance Nagi gave him as the boy exited the kitchen with a sandwich he'd made for the insane Irishman, watching his leader head for the front door.

"If Schuldig leaves the house, tell him I'll kill him." Crawford said flatly as the door closed behind him quietly.


	2. Ran

Glad to see that this story's being clicked on….though a few more reviews would be nice so I know who's actually taking the time to read it. Thanks to the few who bothered.

Here's the set-up for Ran.

Breakdown

Chapter 2: **Ran**

Yohji was late for his shift, and although it did not surprise Ran, it still irritated him to no end. The blond playboy was never on time, even for a shift in the afternoon, so it was almost unheard of for him to rear his golden head for a morning shift.

Ran liked the quiet of the mornings and preferred to be alone in the Koneko when the shop was relatively deserted because he could have some peace, but that still did not mean that he approved of the playboy shirking his duties. If the rest of the team could rise for the morning shifts, even after a hard mission, then Yohji could damn well get his ass out of bed and into the shop after a night of binge drinking and whoring himself. The blond brought the bad wake-ups on himself. Ran felt absolutely no pity for him. Yohji was irresponsible by choice.  
Ran was carefully removing the thorns of a rose when he heard the zombie-like moan of one Yohji Kudou heading his way from the room adjoining the flower shop. A mess of blond hair preceded the hunched over body as Yohji shuffled jerkily into the Koneko, left hand holding a sloshing cup of coffee. Ran knew that he would need the entire pot to get through the morning.

Ran would need a vat of sedatives.

The redhead sighed heavily, mentally preparing himself for '_Morning of the Living Dead'_ part 286.

"Uhn….what time is it?" Yohji groaned, hobbling over to Ran's table and taking a stool. He set his coffee down and draped himself over the tabletop without clearing a space first.

Ran growled at him. "You're crushing the roses, Kudou."

Yohji yawned and sniffled, nestling his face into his folded arms, getting comfortable. "That's ok…I don't think they mind."

"_I_ mind Kudou," Ran said darkly through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to club his teammate with a nearby flowerpot. "Get up."

Yohji grunted and turned his head to face the other direction, pointedly ignoring the redhead. Ran promptly kicked the stool out from under him and watched his arms flail as he fell to the ground, dragging down some of the crushed roses with him.

Yohji stared up at Ran in complete surprise for a moment, rose petals and thorny stems hanging from his hair, before he realized what had happened and he got angry.

"The hell you think you're doing Aya?"

Ran went back to pruning. "Clean that mess up, Kudou. You know where the broom and dustpan are kept."

"Like hell I am!" Yohji stood up a little too quickly and teetered on his feet for a few seconds as he got over a quick dizzy spell. He grabbed his coffee mug off the table and patted down his pockets to make sure he still had his cigarettes and lighter. "I need a smoke."

Ran could have stopped the blond as he went out the front door, but he decided that as long as Yohji was outside and at least ten feet away from him, there was less chance of him being killed and therefore no need for Ran to explain to Krittiker why a member of their team had mysteriously been run through by a kattana. Yohji could also use the fresh air, even if most of it was being camouflaged by smoke.

Ran himself cleaned up the ruined roses and got back to work on his arrangements, Yohji came back inside fifteen minutes later with an empty cup of coffee and probably a half empty packet of cigarettes.  
"Kudou, the shop won't sweep itself," Ran said, labeling a finished arrangement then setting it aside to start on another. "Get to work."

Yohji grumbled something Ran didn't quite hear as he left the Koneko for a second time. Ran later deduced that it must have been along the lines of 'coffee' since Yohji returned a few minutes later with another cup of the steaming black liquid.

"Kudou."

Yohji rolled his eyes behind the shades he always wore tilted off his nose. "What, Aya?"

"Sweep."

"Yeah yeah," the blond waved a hand dismissively. "I'll get around to it later." Which Ran knew translated to 'I will conveniently forget what it is that you asked me to do in precisely 2.3 seconds so you might as well do it yourself.'

Ran growled as he watched Yohji move towards the cash and sit on the counter. The blond surveyed the shop as he drank his second cup of coffee, looking only slightly more awake than he did before.

"You aren't doing anything Kudou. You can at least help me with this list of arrangements. They need to be done by tomorrow afternoon."

"They'll get done faster if I'm not involved Aya. You know you're gonna rearrange _my_ arrangements anyway. You're too picky."

It was true. Ran was an insatiable perfectionist but that was beside the point.

"Kudou."

"Why won't you call me Yohji?" the blond asked idly, "I call _you_ Aya."

Ran really didn't have an answer for him. Kudou just sounded better rolling of his tongue, especially since he was perpetually annoyed with the blond.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know."

"No."

"Well how would you like it if I called you Fujimiya?"

"I'd like it better."

Yohji snorted and gulped some coffee, realizing too late that it was still too hot for that. He grimaced and took a moment to compose himself, then fixed his eyes on Ran once more.

"Snow White then."

Ran stiffened. "No."

"Yes," Yohji affirmed, "Think about it. You act all superior to everyone. Ie. Royalty. A princess. You're cold as ice, in other words, Snow. And you're so damned pale. White. Snow. Snow White."

The redhead dropped the flowers he was holding since he realized that he was crushing them in his fist and he turned his gaze to Yohji, glaring daggers.

"Don't you DARE call me that," he warned him in a dangerous whisper.

"Why?" Yohji carefully took a sip of coffee this time. "Would you prefer Briar Rose? I think that was the other princess. And a rose _is_ your flower. That could be fitting too."

Ran's eyes flashed. "I am NOT a princess, Kudou!" he yelled, pounding his fist onto the table, acting on his anger this time.

"You're right. You're more arrogant than that. I'd say you're closer to being an Ice Queen."

Ran was up from the table and stalking towards the blond in a flash, cursing himself for not having his kattana. He grabbed Yohji roughly by the collar, shaking him so that the blond spilled coffee on the both of them. Ran hissed at the heat but did nothing about it.

"Enough, Kudou."

"Yohji." The blond corrected, meeting his eye without issue.

The redhead flinched then, when their faces were so close. He caught something in Yohji's gaze that bothered him. It should have been fear but Ran saw horror in people's eyes all the time, on every mission. He knew what that looked like. It wasn't anger either. He knew what that was too. This was something else…something he couldn't quite place and it made him uncomfortable.

"Yohji," the playboy said again, putting a hand over Ran's and gently prying his fingers off of shirt.

Ran jerked his hand back as if he were being scalded and stumbled back a step. "What?" he asked in mild confusion.

"Yohji. Call me Yohji. I want to hear you say it."

The glare instantly returned. Ran did not like the soft voice Yohji was using and he especially didn't like the way he was being looked at. What was wrong with the playboy? He was supposed to be angry. Ran had essentially just assaulted him.

"No. I won't say it, Kudou."

Yohji sighed and put his coffee mug down again as he hopped off the counter. He reached out for Aya and the redhead grabbed his wrist.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

The blond shook his head and pulled his hand back. Ran let go.

"You have coffee on your shirt, Aya. You should change before the stain sets in."

Ran looked down, remembering about the spill. "Oh." He nodded. "You—"

"I know. I'll watch the shop while you change and then I'll go."

Ran stared at Yohji, hesitating for only a second before he once again noticed that strange look in the blonde's eyes and he decided that he needed to get away from him very much, if only for five minutes.

He felt Yohji's eyes on him the whole time as he hurried out of the Koneko.


	3. Schuldig

**Schuldig**

Schuldig was annoyed. No, he was pissed off. He hadn't been trying to get himself kicked out of Crawford's office—not that he ever did, but that always seemed to be the outcome of his visits with his stoic leader. He had just wanted some company and Crawford was usually the one he went to for it. The other members of Schwartz just didn't cut it.

Farfarello was too insane, though freakishly smart if you could ever catch him in a moment of lucidity, but most of the time his thoughts were too dark for Schuldig to handle for extended periods of time. It gave him a headache. And Nagi generally ignored the German because his face wasn't a computer or television screen.

No, Schuldig's choice was the hard-ass American known as Bradley Crawford, Code name Oracle; the precognitive bastard who led Schwartz and who wouldn't recognize fun if it knocked him in the face with a crowbar.

Crawford could be described as a very humourless man and his coldness should have turned Schuldig off, it did for most people, but for the German it had the opposite effect. Schuldig wanted to be the one to melt his leader's icy exterior. He wanted Crawford to smile without that dark gleam in his eyes so he wouldn't feel like he needed to run for the hills. He wanted to _make_ Crawford smile a real smile, even once. He wanted Crawford to laugh, and not in a sinister or mocking fashion. He wanted Crawford to crack a joke or at least take the time to listen to one. He wanted Crawford to show him that he was a little bit human and not just a finely sculpted marble statue who gave orders and took them.

Schuldig just wanted Crawford.

Schuldig both hated and adored the fact that Crawford was still a mystery to him, even after all the years that they'd been working together. The German redhead really never knew what the man was thinking and he was dying to take a peek at his thoughts. He stopped keeping track of how many times he'd tried to force his way into Crawford's mind. He just knew that his pride was bruised from all the times he'd been roughly pushed back by the American's mental defenses.

Schuldig wasn't deterred however. He'd get him sometime. His determination was like a rushing river; sooner or later it was going to wear away the large rock lying in its path.

He really hoped that he was getting close though.

"Where's Crawford?" Shuldig rounded the corner into the living room where Nagi was watching some television. The Oracle hadn't been in his office, or anywhere else Schuldig had looked and he wanted to know why.

Nagi ignored the German, too absorbed in his program at the moment to acknowledge his presence, but Farfarello grinned as he entered the room.

The bandaged albino was sitting on the floor with the remains of his sandwich on a plate in front of him and a knife held high. He had chosen to stab the life out of his sandwich before eating it. Schuldig figured that the act probably hurt God somehow, though he wasn't sure how that was exactly.

The mad Irishman turned his one golden eye on the German and cocked his head. "'E said he'd kill you," he smiled wickedly, relaying the part of the message he liked.

Schuldig frowned and checked his mind but the albino's thoughts only consisted of the chanted phrase "kill you." He delved into Nagi's mind instead and was even less pleased with the message he got from him. So Crawford was going to kill him if he left the house, hm?

At the commercial, Nagi finally looked up.

"He went out and he said—"

"_Nein_. Don't tell me," Schuldig held up his hands, "This way I can pretend I never knew."

Nagi looked unconvinced. "He won't buy that and he's going to be mad."

"Kill you kill you kill you…" Farfarello's thoughts had now found voice, but his teammates paid him no mind as he stabbed at the bread crusts again.

Nagi turned back to the television when his show came back on. "Crawford said you can't leave, Schuldig."

"Well he didn't say that to me personally," the German countered. "And we all know how you teenagers forget to deliver messages."

Nagi frowned, taking that comment more personally than he should have. "I _always_ deliver messages. Even Farfarello knows what Crawford said."

"Kill you kill you kill you." Farfarello stabbed happily.

"Farf is always saying stuff like that. And you haven't actually told me the message."

"You still know it. You read my thoughts."

"A technicality, I'm still going out."

"Schuldig," Nagi said impatiently, forgetting about his show.

Schuldig dismissed him with a wave. "Relax _Kindlich_. You know how to put Farf to bed and I'll be back before Crawford returns."

"You don't know that for sure."

"I'll try."

Nagi stared at him but said nothing and pouted, folding his arms, giving up. Schuldig found the act terribly cute and walked around the couch to the teen's side, making a point to avoid the knife wielding madman.

"Don't worry, _Liebling_," he cooed, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'll be home to tuck you in and read you a bedtime story tomorrow."

Schuldig smacked into the wall behind him as Nagi hit him with a wave of telekinetic energy. Instead of being angry he just laughed it off as he picked himself up and straightened his clothes.

"Play nice while I'm gone you two," he narrowed his eyes playfully at his teammates.

Nagi chose to ignore him and Farfarello grinned at the mess on his plate and started eating the crumbs.

"I hope Crawford gets back before you," he said in a moment of lucidity, turning his head to grin maniacally up at Schuldig.

The German shook his head. "Don't get your hopes up Farf. Crawford won't actually kill me."

"Maybe not," answered the Irishman. "But maybe he'll let me play with you."

Schuldig rolled his eyes and went for the door. "You keep hoping, Farf."


	4. Yohji

Longer chapter this time. Enjoy.

Yohji

Ran had put his apron on the moment he'd returned to the shop. It made Yohji wonder why he hadn't been wearing it in the first place. It was shop protocol and Ran always followed the rules to the T. But maybe he'd just been having an off day, or he really hadn't expected to make that much of a mess while creating the arrangements….or to have a blond playboy spill coffee on him…

But whatever the case, Yohji was glad that Ran had slipped up and forgot. It had given him a chance to spill something on that god awful orange sweater the redhead always wore. Yohji liked to believe that Ran donned it just to scare the fan girls away, because no one could have that little fashion sense; though given that it was Ran, it was probably the sad truth.

Yohji very much hoped that the coffee would leave a stain. He'd be doing the world, and especially Ran, a great big favour if that orange abomination was permanently destroyed. Ran had decent clothes; he just rarely bothered to wear them.

And after seeing that he could get away with harming the infamous orange sweater, Yohji decided that he would make it his personal mission to destroy every ugly article of clothing in Ran's wardrobe, one way or another, until the redhead had no choice but to be fashionable and to wear clothes that showed off his the sweet little body.

"Why are you still here Kudou?" Ran looked over at he playboy from his spot at the work table.

Yohji shrugged. He was still taking the time to admire Ran's new shirt. It was a simple black t-shirt but it looked a million times better on Ran than the sweater had. Yohji got to see more skin and the dark colour made the redhead's hair and eyes pop.

Yohji liked it when Ran wore black. He liked his mission gear the most, though he felt a shorter jacket would have been nicer, that way he could see more of the redhead's tight little backside.

Still, Yohji couldn't complain. At least Ran wasn't wearing an orange sweater knit by the blind on missions.

"Go change, Kudou," said Ran, never looking up from his arrangement.

It then became a toss-up whether Yohji would stay and watch Ran some more and hope that the coffee came out in the wash? Or give Ran some peace and go change?

"Kudou…" Ran's tone was getting irritated.

Yohji would go change.

Upon his return, the blond also put on his apron and once again settled himself by the cash. He was now wearing a favourite of his own, his purple dress shirt. It was an item of clothing that he wished Ran would borrow. He felt the redhead would look dazzling in purple, what with his unusual coloured eyes. And despite what Ran believed, it wouldn't kill him to show off his exotic good looks now and again.

"You should wear more purple, Aya," Yohji said contemplatively. "You'd look sexy in purple."

Ran lowered his face as his cheeks reddened a little. He grunted. "Don't just sit around. Do something, Kudou."

"Have you ever thought of burning your wardrobe?"

The redhead blinked and looked up, shocked.

"Because I have," Yohji continued. "You need better clothes. I want to take you shopping."

"Work, Kudou." Ran's tone was final, it was the voice of Abyssinian, but Yohji hadn't finished thinking aloud yet so he failed to be intimidated.

"There's this great purple shirt I saw in a store recently. Unzips diagonally from the neck all the way to the shoulder. You'd be a walking wet dream in that, Aya. I think I'll pick it up for you."

Ran held up a hand to cover his burning face this time. "Get…to work…Kudou," he said very slowly and quietly. He was angry and very uncomfortable.

"Wear that and those leather mission pants and boots of yours? Gods…" Yohji went on, sighing dreamily, "Nobody could keep from touching themselves when they saw you."

Ran bared his teeth and glared up at him. Yohji could still see a hint of pink on his cheeks and it made him smile. Ran was so cute when he was embarrassed.

"Stop it," the redhead ordered.

Yohji raised an eyebrow. "Stop what, Aya?"

"Stop…IT."

"It?" The blond titled his head like a dog who was trying desperately to understand what its master was saying. "What's 'it'? You're gonna have to be more specific, Aya."

Ran paused and then growled. "Stop talking about me…like that."

"What? I was just pointing out the fact that you need new clothes...And that you're sexy."

The redhead frowned and turned his face away. "I told you to stop, Kudou."

"But it's the truth, Aya. You're sexy. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

"Just…shut up."

"Why? Why can't you take a compliment, Aya?"

"I'm not a girl, Kudou."

"Yeah, I know. I never said you were."

"But…"

"But what?"

"But…You're not supposed to say those kinds of things to me…to another man…"

Yohji laughed. "Hey, I'm confident enough with my sexuality that I can compliment another guy, Aya."

"I don't' want to be complimented."

"Why not?"

"Because…because it's distracting."

Yohji shrugged. He couldn't help it if Ran made such a pretty distraction and that he liked talking about him.

"You know, you have surprisingly broad shoulders for such a thin frame, Aya," Yohji observed.

Ran narrowed his eyes down at his work, choosing not to respond this time. Yohji hopped off the counter and walked over to his table, stepping up behind him. He put his hands on either side of the redhead's shoulders. The act surprised Ran and caused him to lash out, striking him squarely in the jaw.

Yohji's head swung back and the bell above the door jingled as the first customer of the day entered the shop. Both men turned to stare at her, though only the blond was holding his jaw.

The petite woman standing by the door seemed unsure as to whether she should leave or not since she had obviously interrupted something. Yohji couldn't let her go. He righted himself and approached her, not smiling quite as broadly as he normally did since his jaw was bruised.

"Good morning!" he said brightly, laying on the charm, "And what can I do for such a lovely lady?"

"Are you…ok?" she inquired timidly, watching him in concern.

"Oh don't worry about me," Yohji smiled, but had to rub his jaw. "My friend was just swatting a fly for me." He knew the excuse was pitiful but it was all he could come up with. He heard Ran snort from his table.

"…oh," the woman nodded. "As long as you're ok."

"Sure," said Yohji, "The hit looked harder than it was."

Another snort from the redhead.

Yohji frowned back at him for a few seconds and then turned his attention to his customer. "So…what would you like?"

The woman eventually found her smile again, deciding that it was ok for her to stay long enough to place an order after all. And Yohji dealt with her quickly, though managed to get her to stay an extra half hour by just chatting with her. He also managed to find himself a date for the following evening.

When she had gone, he rounded on the redhead. "What was that all about, Aya? Why'd you hit me?"

"You surprised me," Ran answered indifferently.

"I was just checking to see how wide your shoulders were so I could buy you that damned shirt," said Yohji crossly.

"I don't want the shirt, Kudou. And you could have just asked me for my measurements."

Touché. Yohji hadn't thought of that.

He rubbed his jaw. "You didn't have to hit me."

"I told you, you surprised me."

"Still didn't have to fucking punch me."

"You deserved it."

"…says you. You're too violent sometimes, Aya."

Ran grunted uncaringly and crossed another arrangement off the list. He was almost finished.

Yohji stared at him expectantly and Ran took his time looking up.

"What?"

"Well aren't you going to apologize?"

"No."

Yohji narrowed his eyes. "This is the second time you've assaulted me this morning, Aya. I think you owe me at least _one_ 'I'm sorry.'"

Ran shook his head. "I don't owe you anything. You brought it on yourself. If you had just shut up and done some actual work, I wouldn't have had to hurt you."

Yohji growled and leaned on the table to stare into his eyes. "Say it, Aya."

Ran looked at him levelly. "No."

"Say it."

"Not on your life, Kudou."

"I want an apology.

"You're not getting one from me."

The phone rang.

"Aya…"

The phone rang again.

"Answer it, Kudou."

Yohji waited until the fourth ring before growling and hurrying off to answer the shop phone.

"What?" he growled, taking out his anger on the unfortunate caller who just happened to be Omi. "What? Oh…" the blonde's tone softened. "Sorry Chibi, what is it?"

Yohji sighed heavily after getting off the phone with Omi. "The Chibi's gotta stay after school for a bit so he'll be late for his shift," he said.

Ran nodded. "You'll stay since you haven't done anything all day. And don't answer the phone like that again, Kudou. We don't need you turning away customers with your foul mood."

Yohji scowled. "Who served that customer earlier, Aya? Was it you? No. It was _me_. So I DID do something today."

Ran rolled his eyes at his childishness. "Barely anything then," he corrected himself and stood up to stretch, needing a short break.

Yohji couldn't help watching him, admiring the graceful arc of his body as he stretched. Ran finished by rolling his neck, working out the stiffness.

"Put the finished arrangements in the backroom," the redhead said as he left for the apartment kitchen. "I think you can handle that much."

Yohji had to make the conscious effort to shut his mouth.

Ran ended up staying for the afternoon shift as well. Apparently he didn't trust Yohji enough to be on his own with Ken. It pissed the blond off even more than the fact that Ran had decided for him that he would stay.

Yohji was capable of handling the gaggle of girls that flocked the shop after school quite well. Ken could manage without Weiss' Ice Queen breathing down his neck too. Nobody needed Ran hovering over them while they tried to do their jobs.

It was a shame Yohji couldn't tell Ran that. He might have gotten punched again and his jaw was still sore from earlier. He didn't want to risk it.

"All these have to go in the back?" Ken asked Yohji, staring at all the finished flower arrangements.

Yohji nodded. "Try not to drop any Kenken. Aya worked so hard on them this morning."

The brunette nodded and carried the first of the arrangements out.

Ran glared at Yohji from the corner of the shop. The blond knew that the redhead was livid with him for pawning the job off on Ken. It made him smile; his payback for not getting an apology from him.

"Kudou, get back to work."

"But I am Aya," Yohji drawled, "I'm serving these lovely ladies." He winked at the twittering girls surrounding him and hit Aya with a lopsided grin that quickly slackened at the sight of Ran's dangerously narrowed gaze.

"Flirting is not part of the job description, Kudou. Save your hobby for your free time." Ran's steely gaze fell on Yohji's flock. "Unless you're buying something, get out."

The girls jumped as one at his harsh tone and said their quick goodbyes to the playboy, promising to come around again tomorrow to see him. Yohji waved them off with an easy smile on his face. He sighed dramatically when they were gone and turned on the redhead.

"Way to go Aya," he whined, draping his long arms over the counter, "I think I was actually going to sell something today."

Ran grunted, feeling no sympathy. "They couldn't afford your price, Kudou. And besides, they're minors. I thought you had some sort of principles."

Yohji gawped, then he blinked, then he nearly fell backwards as he realized that Ran had taken a jab at him.

"Hey, did you just call me a prostitute?"

"No. But I may have alluded to it."

"Hey…wow," Yohji was too floored to come up with a retort. "You made a joke Aya, that's great."

Ran rolled his eyes and scowled. "I wasn't aware you found the truth so humourous, Kudou."

Yohji wouldn't normally have taken words like that to heart. Hell, he knew that he had slightly looser morals than most, not that 'whore' was exactly the word he would have chosen to describe himself, but being called one had never really phased until now.

Ken was always joking about Yohji's many exploits so he was used to it and he wasn't sent on the more scandalous missions for just any reason.

Yohji liked to believe that he was a laid-back kind of guy and he let most insults just roll off him. He was comfortable enough in his own skin that he could shrug off snippy remarks. He really didn't care what people thought of him—or at least he thought he didn't—but something about Ran's comments and no-nonsense personality struck a chord within him. The redhead really wasn't joking around.

"Oi, what's your deal today Aya? You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?"

Ran grunted, his usual dismissal, and suddenly Yohji had had it. He could risk another punch.

With a wicked gleam in his eye, he strutted up to the disgruntled redhead and threw an arm around his shoulder, leaning close to whisper in his ear. "Frankly, I think it's because you don't fall asleep on the proper side—or in the right bed for that matter…and with the right company," he added, brushing the shell of Ran's ear with his lips.

Ran flushed as Yohji's warm breath ghosted his ear and the playboy grinned, completely missing the way Ran's eyes suddenly narrowed to slits and his fists clenched at his sides.

Yohji pressed on. "Which side do you prefer, Aya? Right or left?"

And then the playboy was hunched over, gasping and holding his wounded stomach while the irate redhead stormed right out of the shop. It was a good thing that the fan girls had enough sense to move because Ran would have mowed them down.

Ken had been standing by the storeroom door and had seen everything. He walked up to Yohji, shaking his head. "I think he chose the left side."

"Really?" Yohji wheezed, trying to straighten up but quickly realizing that the view of the floor wasn't actually so bad, "'Cause I have a pretty good feeling that it was the right side," he moaned, rubbing his sore middle.

Ken only shook his head again and patted Yohji's back as he went back to moving the arrangements, leaving the playboy to suffer.

Yohji had to be something of a masochist—either that or he was just incredibly stupid, because no one in their right mind would goad Ran as much as Yohji liked to.

But at least he entertained. Anyone could make Ran angry but it took a master to make him storm off in a huff like Yohji was prone to make him do. Yohji certainly had more skill than most.

It hurt to be Yohji Kudou sometimes.


	5. Oracle

Breakdown

Chapter 5: **Crawford**

Crawford had been giving it at least half an hour, but even that appeared to have been wishful thinking. Twenty minutes was all it took for the German redhead to realize that he was gone and to make contact.

/Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Schuldig/ Crawford began tiredly through the mental link that Schuldig had just opened.

The telepath laughed. /So hostile, _mein fuehrer_. I haven't done anything wrong yet./

/I have difficulty believing that Schuldig, you're always doing something wrong./

/Not…always/ Even Schuldig seemed to have trouble getting that statement out.

/Always/ Crawford confirmed /And you were told to stay in the house./

/No I wasn't/

/Perhaps no one told you out loud, but I'm sure you got my message one way or another./

/Well, how do you know I'm not at home right now/

/Are you/ Crawford asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

/No. But I only went out because I didn't know where you were./

Crawford rolled his eyes, even though the German could not see the gesture /You didn't have to leave the house to find that out/

/Yes I did/ Schuldig replied /You wouldn't have told me if I'd asked./

Very true.

Crawford sighed. /That is because what I do with my time is none of yours, or anyone else's business, Schuldig./

/Not true, _Schnuckel._ Someone has to worry about your tight American ass. And I'm the martyr who's taken on the task/

Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose and sent a hint of his aggravation through the link. /Call me that again, Schuldig, and I will shoot you./

Schuldig snorted /_Ja ja, _You always threaten to shoot me. You need to be more inventive./

/Then how would you like to die/ Crawford asked in exasperation.

Schuldig didn't miss a beat /Erotic asphyxiation/ he said and Crawford could feel the leer through the link.

The precog growled. Schuldig didn't even take threats seriously.

/You won't kill me anyway/ The German pointed out. /I'm just too cute and utterly fuckable./

Crawford took a steadying breath. /No. Now try again./

/Because you love me, then./ Schuldig offered.

And then Crawford was silent. He was silent for quite some time while he thought over those words. It wasn't that they were the truth; it was that Schuldig sounded so hopeful that he would hear a yes. Crawford couldn't give him one.

/Well where are you/ Schuldig changed the focus of the conversation when he realized he was going to be listening to dead air for a while if he didn't. Crawford noticed that he didn't sound quite so amused anymore.

The precog sighed. /Away from you, Schuldig, which is what I needed./

Crawford felt a sudden wash of hurt through the link and suddenly Schuldig ended their mental conversation, muttering one word before the link closed. _Arschloch._

Crawford knew that Schuldig wasn't going to go home now. The German would make a point to stay out as late as he could, partying in a club somewhere, consoling himself with alcohol and the company of scantily clad individuals.

Schuldig could be such a child sometimes. Crawford just prayed that the redhead stayed out of serious trouble. He went overboard when he was upset because he was such a slave to his emotions. He wished that the telepath could control his feelings the way he was able to. Schuldig wouldn't be as much of a loose canon if he did.

The German, like Crawford, had strong mental barriers, though it wasn't so much for privacy's sake as it was for sanity's. Schuldig had to be able to block out the thoughts of everyone around him otherwise he would get overwhelmed by them all. The trouble was when he was upset, his ability to block out outside interference decreased.

This fact made Crawford worry about the redhead more than the other members of his team. Schuldig was just too powerful a telepath and he became a danger to himself and everyone around him if he ever lost control of his ability.

And an upset telepath loose on the town was a recipe for disaster.

It made Crawford angrier than he had been before. He had walked out of the house to get away from Shuldig and his antics. He wanted a little peace, but Schuldig had dashed that hope just by being Schuldig. Crawford knew that he was going to be spending the rest of the evening worrying about the German redhead.

Sometimes he really hated that man.

He tried to open up the mental link but Schuldig had shut him out.

No surprise.

Crawford cursed quietly and got up from his seat on the park bench. It appeared as though he wouldn't be calmly watching the sunset after all.

He flipped open his cell phone as he walked down the path and called home. Nagi picked up on the second ring. He could hear Farfarello happily chanting 'kill you' in the background.

"If Shuldig comes home, MAKE him stay there," Crawford said, getting right to the point, "And if you hear from him…tell him I want him home." Not that he wasn't certain that the order would be disobeyed by the redhead if ever he got it.

"Can I play with 'im?" Farfarello had picked up one of the other phones in the house to join in on the conversation.

Crawford sighed. The offer was tempting, but he would figure out what to do with the redhead once he'd gotten him home. "I haven't decided what to do with him yet," he told the Irishman. "It all depends on how much trouble he's caused before I track him down."

Farfarello laughed giddily and hung up the phone. The albino most likely took those words as a good sign that he'd get to play with the German. Everyone knew how Schuldig liked to misbehave.

"Is that clear, Nagi?" Crawford addressed the boy again; making sure his words had been heard and understood.

"Yes. Schuldig stays here. And if he gets in touch, I tell him to come home."

"Right," said Crawford, "And make sure to put Farfarello to bed…And don't stay up too late, Nagi. You have school tomorrow."

Nagi groaned at the fatherly comment before he said his goodbye and hung up the phone.

Crawford clicked off his cell and stuffed it back into his pocket.

It was going to be a very…very long night.

Crawford had a feeling that he might have to use his gun on himself well before he caught up with the German telepath. Clubs and skin bars were not his cup of tea and he knew that he'd be visiting quite a number of them in his search for Schuldig.

Suddenly the thought of handing Schuldig over to the Farfarello was even more attractive than it was before.

Farfarello had been a relatively good boy recently. Maybe he deserved a bit of a reward.

But then again, the insane Irishman never did know how to play nicely with the other kids.

Crawford sighed. No matter how bad Schuldig was, his actions could never earn him a play date with Farfarello. Only the scum they killed on mission deserved to tangle with the Irishman, maybe the Weiss kittens as well.

Though gift wrapping Schuldig and presenting him to Farfarello was a mildly comforting thought that Crawford felt might just get him through a night of searching for the telepath.

Crawford just wished he knew where to start. He didn't know the names or locations of any of the places the German frequented. So he would have to rely entirely on guess work and simple observation—If a place was loud, somewhat grungy, and swarming with half-dressed people, then it was probably right up Schuldig's alley.

Crawford squeezed the bridge of his nose as he came upon the strip of nightclubs and bars. He was already getting a headache.

Morning couldn't come soon enough.


	6. Farfarello

Since you requested it, this is for you Busta.

Enjoy the madness all.

Breakdown

Chapter 6: **Farfarello**

It was all too amusing to the madman because even to him it was so painfully obvious.

Schuldig was in love and Crawford was oblivious.

Farfarello pitied his leader. For all the things Crawford saw, for all his foresight and visions, he was unable to see what was directly in front of him. Schuldig was in love with him and had been for some time now.

Of course it was hard to take anything that Schuldig said seriously because he was always joking around, but even under all that teasing, there was truth. And when it came to his feelings, Schuldig was always upfront.

To anyone, the German was an open book. Crawford just never took the time to read him. All he did was skim the surface, so what he saw was the taunting and he completely missed the underlying message.

Why was a precognitive man so blind? That question stumped Farfarello but it also made him laugh.

An insane killer was more observant than Schwartz's fearless leader.

"You're not supposed to do that over the carpet," Nagi admonished as he watched the albino slice into his arm, drawing out a stream of blood.

Farfarello stared intently at the blood. He'd already made half a dozen incisions into his flesh just so he could watch the red liquid flow. He felt nothing since his nerve endings were dead, but he was fascinated by the crimson fluid leaking from his veins.

"He won't let me have him, you know," he said, slicing a little deeper than before. Nagi winced for him. "He's a bad man for getting my hopes up like that."

Farfarello continued to cut himself and Nagi frowned, but had enough sense not to try and take the knife from the mad Irishman.

"I'm going to need to bandage you before you go to your room," said the teen, leaving for a minute to fetch a towel. Farfarello had started in on the other arm by the time Nagi returned.

"Stop that now," said Nagi, "I want to go to bed soon."

Farfarello obediently stopped cutting himself and licked the blood off the knife before slipping it back into a slit in his vest.

"Why can't he see it?" he asked, finally looking up from the blood as Nagi dropped a towel over the wounds on one arm, carefully holding it in place.

Nagi wasn't afraid of hurting the Irishmen since he felt no pain, but he still didn't want to make any moves that might be misconstrued as aggressive. Farfarello was knife happy and he had a vest full of shiny blades.

"What are you talking about?" Nagi asked, tugging on Farfarello's arm lightly to let the albino know that he wanted him to get up and follow him. He left Farfarello to hold the towel after that and marched off the bathroom, expecting the madman to follow.

Farfarello rounded into the bathroom and took his place on the lowered toilet seat. "Ye know who I'm talking about." He let the towel fall to the floor so he could watch the blood again.

Nagi frowned and picked it up. "I really don't know," Nagi replied, wetting a cloth to clean up the blood on the more damaged arm first.

"Crawford and Schuldig," Farfarello explained. "Yer a child, but you can't be that naïve that you don't see it."

Nagi's brow knitted as he concentrated on getting the Irishman cleaned up. "What am I supposed to see?"

"He loves him," said Farfarello, and then began a sing-song chant of 'loves him' as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Schuldig's just joking around." Nagi finished cleaning and bandaging one arm and moved onto the other.

Farfarello stared back at him, but with a far off look in his eye. "He jokes. But it's the truth. I guess yer like Crawford."

His gaze went back to the ceiling and Nagi concluded that he was finished talking since he'd retreated into his mind again, mumbling things like 'loves him' and 'can't see' between his usual nonsensical babbling.

Farfarello was rather fond of his chaotic mind. It kept everyone guessing. Even the great telepath Schuldig couldn't piece his thoughts together. And it brought him a certain kind of joy when the German received a headache from trying to sift through his mind.

The Irishman could be coherent when he wanted to be, but he liked the jumble too much. Even when he spoke he liked to keep his teammates wondering unless he really had something that he deemed was important enough to convey in a way they'd understand.

Simpletons.

It wasn't Farfarello's fault that they had difficulty reconstructing his thoughts with only the few segments and key words that he'd decided to speak for them. He didn't like to think of himself as insane. He preferred the term "complex."

Yes. He was complex.

"Done," said Nagi, bringing Farfarello somewhat back to reality. The boy had finished tending to the Irishman's latest wounds.

Farfarello grabbed his wrist as the teen reached forward to straighten a clean bandage slightly and Nagi visibly flinched.

"I'm complex," the albino grinned.

Nagi furrowed his brow and nodded jerkily, pulling his arm back, glad that Farfarello had let go so easily.

"You are," he agreed and stood up. "And I'm tired. It's time for bed."

Farfarello stood and followed him out of the bathroom and to his room where he would be promptly locked in for the night after being placed in a straight jacket.

He made absolutely no fuss as Nagi went through the nightly routine with him. He even requested that the jacket straps be tightened a little more, hoping that he could sense even the slightest tingle of pain from the newest scars he'd made.

Of course he felt nothing, but the thought alone of stressing the damaged flesh even more delighted him.

Nagi left Farfarello sitting on his mattress with his back pressed up against the wall, the uncomfortable position the madman always slept in, and walked to the door.

"He should just fuck him and be done with it if you ask me," Farfarello mused out loud. Nagi turned before closing the door, blinking.

"Sodomy hurts God." The albino smiled in a frenzied way and Nagi shook his head, shutting the door as he bid him good night and went off to bed himself.

"Hurts God…can't see…loves him…fucks him….kill you…kill you…kill you…."

Farfarello fell asleep, grinning.


	7. Balinese

Breakdown

Chapter 7: **Balinese**

Yohji was happy that half the swooning fan girls rushed out of the Koneko to watch Ran as he marched down the sidewalk, though he would have been happier had they all chosen to do so. But at least he was only being stared at expectantly by half the usual swarm.

Yohji looked down into the questioning and slightly alarmed faces of the fan girls who flocked to him, and gave them a lopsided grin, scratching the back of his head. Usually the smooth talker, he was surprised to find that he couldn't think up an excuse to tell them. Ran's attitude had completely caught him off guard.

It wasn't uncommon for the grim redhead to retreat to the storeroom to cool off. Ran always came back out with something in hand; potters, cutters, whatever was on had to make it look as if the trip to the backroom had been purposeful to the shop, but Yohji knew better. Ran just needed a breather.

This time, however, he'd chosen the opposite direction and Yohji very much doubted that the redhead would be reappearing after the usual five to ten minute cool down period.

"Are you alright?"

Yohji felt a tug on his arm and it was only then that he realized that he had a bright eyed fan girl attached to it. He hoped it didn't require and operation to have it removed.

He nodded and looked around at the girls again, still at a loss for words. He really didn't know what to tell them. And even though everyone had seen what had gone on, it had been Yohji's fault, so he felt he owed them some form of an explanation.

The trouble of course was coming up with one. Only the truth kept surfacing in his mind; he had gotten a little too friendly with Ran, the redhead had taken a hissy, popped him in the stomach and stomped out of the shop.

But maybe that would do. Maybe he just had to point out the obvious.

Yohji cleared his throat, hushing the excited chatter of the school girls instantly. All eyes turned to him and he could swear he heard the distinct chirp of crickets when he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Nothing came out because he really didn't have anything to say. Apparently even his mouth had decided it wasn't wasting it's time stating exactly what everyone had seen.

Yohji Kudou, playboy extraordinaire, was speechless for the first time in his life and it was a rather horrifying revelation.

He could have kissed Ken full on the mouth a second later when he heard a loud crash from the storeroom and a string of muffled curses uttered by none other than Ken Hidaka, the walking, talking, accident-waiting-to-happen; Yohji's godsend. Yohji had never been happier than he was right now to be sharing a shift with his clumsy partner.

It was at times like these that Yohji wondered how Ken, a.k.a. Siberian, made such a good assassin. On a mission, he was as graceful in a fight as a man fighting with bugnuks could be, slightly better than a barroom brawler because he was still quick and agile, but in everyday life he was a spaz.

In Yohji's opinion, they wouldn't have had to sweep the shop half as often if Ken was just kept out of it. Objects just seemed to tip over and break when the brunette was around.

Still, everyone had to pull their weight in the shop. And Yohji did his part by keeping the fan girls occupied and away from Weiss' icy, redheaded assassin as much as he could when he shared a shift with Ran. And it hurt the playboy's pride a little to admit that it was a difficult task, even for him.

Yohji hadn't been lying when he said that Ran was sexy. It was a well-known fact, or at least those who gossiped in the shop seemed to share that opinion. Yohji could remember hearing the words gorgeous and mysterious used by the fan girls quiet frequently as well. So apparently being a cold, anti-social bastard was a turn-on.

Yohji secretly agreed.

And he knew that Ran never took notice of his efforts to draw the school girls' attentions to him and off of the redhead. Yohji wouldn't be accused of slacking so much if Ran paid a little more attention to the gawking eyes trained on him and less attention to that fact that the girls attached to those eyes weren't buying anything.

'_If you're not buying anything, get out;'_ the infamous words that fell on deaf ears every time Ran spoke them. Yohji always had to make a conscious effort not to roll his eyes when he did He also had to stop himself from replying with '_Honey, do you honestly think they're going anywhere when they have someone like YOU to stare at?'_

The playboy was glad that his self control worked on the occasion because he probably would have been given a real shiner for saying something like that….not that an elbow to the ribs had been any better.

Ran should be more grateful to him, Yohji decided. Sure, he rarely did even a quarter of the things that Ran asked him to do, but that was for the redhead's benefit. He had to make a decision. Yohji couldn't trim stems _and_ distract a dozen or more fan girls at one time. He just wasn't that good at multitasking and sometimes the power of his charm could only go so far.

It was so damn hard being Yohji Kudou sometimes, especially during a shift with the mysterious Ran Fujimiya.

"Excuse me ladies," Yohji smiled sadly, "But it looks like our dear Ken has made a mess and I have to go help him clean it up."

"Is he alright?" One of the girls asked immediately.

Yohji shrugged. "I don't know, but if he has a booboo I'll be sure to let him know that there are plenty of girls that want to kiss it better _tomorrow_," he said, putting extra emphasis on the last word.

"But what about now?" All the girls whined in unison, realizing suddenly that Yohji wasn't just going to the storeroom to check on Ken, he was trying to kick them all out of the shop too.

"Don't worry," Yohji soothed, "I'm sure he's alright and you can see him _tomorrow_." He tried again.

"But how can you be sure he's alright?" Another girl asked. "What if it's serious? What if he has to go to the hospital?"

The Koneko erupted in one giant gasp and suddenly simple clumsiness became a life or death situation to the girls.

Yohji sighed. Ken probably just tripped and broke one of the arrangements, though given that it was Ran who had made them, Ken might think about buying a one way ticket to a safer country.

"Hey Kenken! You alright?" Yohji called out to the brunette for the sake of the fan girls little beating hearts.

Ken grumbled something which Yohji decided should be edited for younger ears and grinned at the girls. "There, you see? He's fine."

"I want to buy him flowers!" A girl to Yohji's left shouted, eyes wide and excited as if what she had just said had been the most novel idea ever.

"NO! I want to buy him flowers!" Another girl cried. Of course it was suddenly a competition and a bid for Ken's affection.

Yohji sighed heavily, very close to having a Ran moment himself, but he kept up the cheery smile. "I'm sure Kenken would love to have flowers from you ladies, but you'll have to buy them tomorrow. We have a little bit of a mess to clean up right now so we're closing the shop early."

Yohji ignored their protests this time and ushered them out of the shop, turning the sign around in the window so that it read '_closed.'_ He then went to check on Ken and the situation was worse than he'd previously assumed.

"But…how?" Yohji gawked from the doorway and Ken just stood there shaking his head while grumbling under his breath.

In some spectacular fashion, that Yohji couldn't even imagine, Ken had somehow managed to tip over a stack of heavy bags of potting soil onto all the arrangement that he'd carried into the back so far. That meant that the first four had bit the dust. And Yohji didn't even want to guess how he'd done that, or why he'd even placed the arrangements on the floor instead of on the free shelf to begin with.

All Yohji knew was that they'd be booking _two_ tickets to a far of land instead of one, because they were both dead men once Ran came home…if he came home and saw his morning's worth of hard work crushed under a pile of dirt.

It really sucked to be Yohji Kudou sometimes.


	8. Omi

Wasn't planning on having a second chapter ready in the same night but i was on a roll so here's Omi's chapter.

Enjoy

Breakdown

Chapter 8: **Omi**

Omi had arrived at the Koneko late for his shift, just as he had told Yohji he would and he was more than a little surprised to see that the shop was closed. They only closed early on the days Manx came to visit them about a mission.

He immediately assumed that he was late for a mission meeting and so he rushed into the apartment and down the stairs to the mission room.

"What is it? What's going on? Has Manx left already? Where's Aya?" Omi asked the questions in quick succession and Yohji waved him off.

"Not now Chibi, Kenken and I are trying to figure out a way to get around dying."

"Greenland or Antarctica?" Ken offered, looking intently over the globe on the table between him and the blond.

Yohji instantly shook his head. "No. Too cold."

"Well we can't be picky," said Ken, "We _are_ running for our lives."

"It's not that. The climate wouldn't be a deterrent for Aya. He'd feel too at home there."

Ken nodded once. "Point." He spun the globe again and stared below the equator. "What about Tahiti then?"

"Good thinking, he might melt there."

"What are you two talking about?" Omi asked, completely not following the same wave length as his teammates. "Where's Aya?"

"Not here," Ken grunted and stared at a few other tropical islands.  
**  
**"You're looking at two dead men Chibi," Yohji informed him, not bothering to look up, "Please remember to say something nice at our funerals."

Omi blinked and withstood only a few more of Ken's island suggestions before he'd had enough and he grabbed the globe off the table, gazing at his teammates sternly as he got into leader mode. "What's going on?"

Yohji sighed and sat back, motioning for Ken to explain and the brunette also heaved a sigh. "Yohji tried to grope Aya in the shop and—"

"I did _not_ try to grope him," Yohji interrupted him crossly.

Ken scowled, "Do _you_ wanna tell the story then?"

"No. I just wanted to set the facts straight. All I asked him was what side of the bed he preferred to sleep on."

Ken rolled his eyes. "You pretty much hinted at the fact that Aya needs to get laid, Yohji."

The playboy grinned. "Heh, well it's the truth. It's not my fault that he couldn't handle hearing it…or the little attention I gave him."

"Even a little of your attention should be rated for mature audiences, Yohji," Ken muttered, but Yohji took it as a compliment and winked at him.

Omi frowned at the playboy. "You shouldn't have done that, Yohji. You know how Aya is."

Yohji grinned. "You jealous Chibi?"

"Yohji!" Omi used his mortified voice and turned a bright shade of red. He quickly turned to Ken.

"S-so what happened…after?" the blond boy asked hesitantly, glancing warily out of the corner of his eye at the playboy, who pouted seductively at him. Omi knew he was only teasing him but it was still unnerving.

Ken chose to ignore all the playboy's antics and shrugged. "Not much. Aya elbowed Yohji and ran out of the shop. We figure he'll be back once he cools off. It isn't like he doesn't go off on his own sometimes."

Omi still didn't like the idea of Ran taking off while angry.

"Which is why we have to be gone before he gets back," Yohji said, bringing the conversation right back around to his and Ken's dire situation.

"Why?" asked the youngest member of Weiss. "Aya can't be mad forever and I don't think he would kill Ken for what you did to him, Yohji."

"I killed the arrangements," Ken admitted solemnly.

"And _I'm_ gonna get blamed for it because I didn't bring them in myself when Aya asked me to," Yohji added, "I made Ken do it."

Ken's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Wait a second…You DID make me do it so it IS your fault," he said gleefully. "Aya can't be mad at me because he asked YOU to do it." Ken jumped up from the table with an excited gleam in his eyes, realizing that he was off the hook.

"HEY," Yohji pointed angrily. "Don't bail on me now, Kenken. We're supposed to be in this together!"

Ken shook his head like an obstinate child. "Nuh uh, you're on your own Yohji."

"But you're the one who crushed the arrangements!" Yohji was up from the table as well and scowling across at his shorter teammate.

"Wouldn't have happened if you'd just done it yourself."

"I told you to be careful! Why can't you just function like a normal person?"

Ken growled and readied his fists. It was a very bad idea to anger the hot-headed Weiss assassin and Yohji regretted it immediately, but he was still annoyed that Ken had jumped ship so quickly.

The coward.

"Why you…" Ken was ready to make a leap at Yohji but Omi quickly jumped in front for the block.

"Guys!" he yelled, trying to get their complete attention. And he got it. Both men's shoulders slumped but the scowling was ever present.

Omi took it as a sign to go on.

"Why don't you guys just remake the destroyed arrangements? I think they only need to be done for tomorrow, right?"

And then the glares dissolved and Ken and Yohji felt incredibly stupid all of sudden. Why hadn't it occurred to either of them to just remake the arrangements?

Omi wondered that himself. It also made him realize yet again why _he _was the brains of the operation and the rest of the team had to follow _his_ mission plans.

"My hero!" Yohji rushed forward and squeezed the life out of Omi with a hug. Omi gasped and gave him a strained smile, patting his arm gently.

"Let him go," Ken said, watching the blond boy's face turn blue, "He can't breath."

"But I want to thank him for saving my life," Yohji moaned, but obediently let Omi go.

Omi took a deep breath and smiled. "It's ok, Yohji. It was just a small suggestion. A thank you is enough."

Yohji sighed. "I suppose…but…" he smirked and grabbed Omi's hand, pulling the teenager close. "If ever you decide you want more than a thank you from me, you know where my room is…" he said suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. "And I don't have a date until tomorrow night." He kissed the back of Omi's hand as he let him go.

Ken slapped the him upside the head. "Stop doing that to Omi."

Yohji laughed, ruffling the embarrassed blond boy's hair. "Sorry Chibi. You're just so cute, I can't resist sometimes."

Omi stubbornly stared at the floor, but it was impossible to hide his blush since his whole face, ears and neck were beat red.

Ken shook his head and left of the shop, calling back to the playboy. "Move you ass, Yohji, we have arrangements to make."

Yohji grinned and blew a kiss to Omi before heading upstairs again. Omi only felt safe enough to breathe once the door had closed behind them.

He wished he'd stayed a little longer after school.


	9. Abyssinian

Breakdown

Chapter 9: **Abyssinian**

The only thing saving Yohji Kudou's life at the moment was the fact that Ran was still too humiliated to return to the Koneko. Even after spending the afternoon visiting his comatose sister, Ran was still angry and embarrassed over what Yohji had done to him all day.

The visit with Aya had provided Ran with too much time for introspection. And not being one to ever share his feelings, even to unconscious family members, the redhead was fit to burst. He needed to find himself an outlet.

Normally Ran would have meditated or worked on his katas, but he knew that those two options were both out of the question this time. First of all, Ran didn't have his kattana and the maintenance workers at the hospital had not been willing to lend him a mop. Initially one worker had seemed overjoyed to loan him one if Ran would agree to mop an entire floor of the hospital. Ran had, of course, agreed, but unfortunately he had entirely missed the sarcasm, though he caught on a moment later when the man walked off, laughing raucously as he pushed his cart of cleaning supplies away.

Another man who had been watching the exchange, and who had come to the hospital to visit a loved one, had been in a generous mood and had offered Ran some money. When Ran had inquired as to the reason for his generosity, the man had given him a street name where he could find himself some cheap company, because apparently he thought Ran could do better than a mop.

It was then that Ran had decided to storm out of yet another building.

He'd gone to the park, but even the peaceful atmosphere hadn't helped. For the first time, Ran could not force the calm needed for meditation. The reason being was that every time he closed his eyes, he was plagued by the sight of green eyes staring back at him with some look he still couldn't understand. The eyes were attached to a lopsided grin and framed by a mop of wavy blond hair. Every time Ran saw that smiling face, he began to feel warm and his concentration was instantly broken, and he became angry because Yohji Kudou should not be having this effect on him, especially just the thought of him.

It wasn't bad enough that Yohji had invaded his personal space that day, but now he was oozing into a more private area, Ran's mind. It made the redhead want to wring the playboy's neck even more.

So after the failed meditation, Ran had decided that he was too antsy and had just started walking from that moment on, with no particular destination in mind. He crossed the park, strolled past high class business, walked by boutiques--stopped in front of one when a certain purple shirt with a diagonal zipper caught his eye—and continued on his way, refusing to look in anymore shop windows after that.

Before long, Ran found himself in the less peaceful and far less clean areas of the city. He didn't quite remember the journey there, but it was where his feet had decided to take him. He wasn't looking for cheap company as the man at the hospital had suggested, and he wasn't looking to drink.

Ran and alcohol just never fell in the same sentence. He and liqour had never gotten on well in the past so he avoided it like the plague. There was not one thing about it that Ran could find to like. Apart from it looking, tasting and burning ones throat like lighter fluid, it made one slow and clumsy. An assassin couldn't afford to be any of those things, even if Yohji liked to think otherwise.

So since he hadn't been looking to drink, Ran hadn't been looking for a bar, and yet he had somehow stumbled across one on his mindless walk and for reasons unknown to him, now found himself standing in the doorway of a haze-filled, dimly lit, hole-in-the-wall of a bar. He couldn't stop his lip from curling in disgust as he scanned the place.

The bar was teeming with the kinds of lowlifes that Ran was used to introducing himself to on regular basis with the wrong end of his kattana.

And then his gaze fell on a man wearing a pristinely clean white suit jacket, sitting in a darkened corner, fingering the rim of a glass filled with some dark amber liquid. The man's dark hair fell over the sides of his face as he leaned over the table to read something, a newspaper, Ran decided, though how the man could see it in the near dark was beyond him.

He growled. The Schwartz assassin stuck out like a sore thumb.

Ran avoided the interested and sometimes menacing stares of the patrons of the bar and stomped over to Crawford. He stopped beside his table with his arms folded, looking expectant.

Crawford turned the page of his newspaper and ignored him.

Ran narrowed his eyes and coughed to get the man's attention. When that did not work, he grabbed a section of Crawford's newspaper and growled the American's codename. "Oracle."

"You could have waited an extra minute for me to finish with that section, Abyssinian." Crawford looked up, mildly annoyed amber eyes meeting angry violet ones. He reached out for his paper but Ran would not give it to him.

"Very well," he sighed. "Keep it if you're so attached to it." He went back to reading what was left of his newspaper.

Ran snarled and tossed the paper back onto the table. This time when Crawford lifted his head, he looked more than a little aggravated.

"I came here for some measure of quiet, Abyssinian," he said darkly, "Not a confrontation. If you cannot sit quietly and have a drink, then I'll kindly ask you to go elsewhere."

"You can't tell me what to do," Ran growled, obviously unaware of the fact that he was pouting slightly.

Crawford smiled sardonically and inclined his head towards the red-headed assassin. "Ah, well spoken. And which five-year-old did you nip that bit of logic from?"

Ran continued to scowl, on edge, watching the Schwartz leader warily as he lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. His eyes followed Crawford's every move until he'd set the glass down and began to neatly fold his newspaper.

"If you are staying, put away the death glare. Sit down and have a drink."

Ran only frowned at the order and Crawford sighed when he didn't make a move in any direction.

"If it helps you at all, think of my words as a request more than an order. I don't like you hovering around my table, Abyssinian. You're not dressed up in your tight little leathers and stylish trench coat, so you aren't on duty and therefore not here to kill me. Or am I wrong in assuming that Krittiker didn't send you? Are you under cover?"

Ran shook his head, feeling confident enough to answer his question. Crawford nodded once and Ran assumed that he must have been pleased that his assumption had been correct. Though the American was most likely wondering as to the real reason why he was in a seedy bar.

Ran was wondering the same thing about Crawford. The dark-haired man seemed to have too much class to be caught dead in a place like this. It was more to the taste of the annoying redheaded member of Schwartz, Ran decided. He was sure that the talkative German would have felt right at home here.

"I'm not going anywhere," Ran decided that he'd point out the obvious.

Crawford looked to the heavens and leaned back in the booth before he looked at Ran. "So… you want _ME_ to leave."

Ran didn't say anything, but he knew that Crawford would surmise from his silence that he was answering in the affirmative.

The Oracle sighed. "Unless you manage this bar or know the manager personally, I'm afraid that I will be childish as well and point out the fact that I was here first."

"You saw me coming here." Ran instantly accused him.

Crawford raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Did I? You're certain of that?"

A nod.

"Really? Are you precognitive as well? Or are you just guessing?"

"Why else would you be here?" Ran asked abrasively.

"For a drink and some quiet. I thought I made that perfectly clear before."

"I don't believe you."

"Well obviously, otherwise you wouldn't still be making stupid accusations." Crawford sighed loudly and pulled off his glasses, wiping the lenses on a handkerchief that he'd pulled from his pocket. He didn't so much as glance up at Ran, as if the act of making eye contact with the red-head would be a waste of his time. "You're a tiny spec in the cosmos Abyssinian. Do not flatter yourself by thinking that anything you do merits my having a vision about it, and at that, my acting on it. We have a history, true, but I do not see everything, least of all what you do with your mundane existence when Schwartz and Weiss are not fighting. You're not so utterly important that I would wait for you in a smoke-filled bar on my time off."

"And what if you did?"

Crawford raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Have a vision of this?" Ran clarified, watching the dark-haired assassin steadily.

The edges of Crawford's mouth lifted as he raised his glass and took a sip. "Although it's a change of pace, I am not certain that being glared at is better than being leered at all day." He replaced the glass on the table, allowing his smile to show. "Though admittedly, your pout is cuter than Mastermind's."

Ran's face reddened, not only out of anger but out of humiliation. A comment like that was that last thing he would have expected to hear from Schwartz's leader. Maybe Mastermind, but certainly not from Oracle.

Ran tried to glare through his embarrassment, but Crawford had stopped paying attention to him. He was surprised to see the dark-haired man's smile suddenly morph into a grimace of pain as he grabbed his forehead and winced loudly, gritting his teeth. Ran could see a thin stream of blood trickling from his nose.

Ran wondered if that was the side effect of him having a vision. And at that, he was very curious as to what he had seen.

It took a while for Crawford to get over the "attack," as Ran had decided to call it, and when Crawford did drop his hand and wipe the blood from his nose, he sat back and looked at Ran with a dangerous calm.

"I need a drinking partner," Crawford said simply, his tone somewhat clipped. "You look as if you could use one too." He motioned to the seat across from him. "Sit."

Remarkably…Ran sat.

If thoughts of Yohji had brought him to this place, then perhaps he'd take a page from the blonde's own book and say fuck it and have a drink…or twenty.

However long it took for the bar to run dry.

Crawford called for the first round and lifted his glass once it was refilled. Ran carefully picked up his own drink and sniffed it, grimacing only slightly.

Crawford smiled. "Cheers."

Ran watched him skull his drink and decided to do likewise. After a coughing fit and the world turning faster than it should, Ran concluded that he felt a little better and happily accepted another drink.

The world didn't look quite so bad through the bottom of a glass…


	10. Mastermind

This is the shortest chapter so far, but I liked where it ended, so meh. More Crawford and Ran in the next Chapter. Wanted to give Schu the spotlight again since it had been a while.

Enjoy.

Breakdown

Chapter 10: **Mastermind**

It wasn't funny anymore. It was no longer a game. Schuldig had stopped being amused because Crawford had taken things too far. His pride had been wounded.

Abyssinian's pout was NOT cuter than his!

/How could you say such a thing, Bradley/ Schuldig screeched through the mental link he'd opened up. It was a fluke that he'd managed to catch his leader's words through all the usual cacophony of noisy minds, especially since the words had come from the mind of the ice kitten, Abyssinian. '…_your pout is cuter than Mastermind's.'_ That was definitely not true.

/Braaadley/ Schuldig whined again.

Crawford was slow to respond and for a moment Schuldig thought he was just being ignored, but when Crawford's slightly shaky voice came across the link, Schuldig remembered that he'd given him the telepathic equivalent of a punch in the head just before he'd opened up the link. Perhaps it had been slight overkill to attack his leader as he had done, but Schuldig had been upset and he hadn't thought before he'd hit the American with the force of his hurt. Schuldig couldn't help being sensitive and reckless.

/If you are still looking for me, Schuldig, I suggest you stop immediately/ Crawford began in an unsteady growl. /I may have been searching for you out of worry before I decided to take a small break, but now you have made me realize that it is not worth my while to continue./

Schuldig blinked. /You were worried about me/ He never thought he'd hear those words from his cold leader.

/_Were_ being the operative word, Schuldig. As leader of Schwartz, I am meant to worry about the well-being of my teammates. But in your case, I no longer care what you do/

It hurt more than it should have to hear Crawford say that. Schuldig's brow furrowed. /…Yes you do/ he argued weakly /You have to. Like you said, we're a team/

/Not for much longer/ Crawford answered.

/What do you mean/ the German asked with growing distress.

/It means that I no longer feel like dealing with you and your…shit/ Crawford explained eloquently. Swearing was a rare occurrence for him so Schuldig knew that this was serious. /I have put up with you this long because you are an asset to the team, but if you are going disobey my orders and attack me for such childish reasons, then you become expendable. Esset will see things my way. You are a loose canon, Schuldig, and I have defended you long enough from them. Esset will not hesitate to grant my request to have you removed from the team/

Schuldig gasped and started panicking. He couldn't leave Schwartz. He couldn't leave Crawford. He couldn't go to _them_.

/You can't do this, Crawford. PLEASE/ he pleaded.

/ I can do whatever I please Schuldig. I lead Schwartz and it is my call to say who stays and who goes/

Schuldig's hands shook and he had difficulty keeping the link open. /But I don't want to go. You know what Esset will do to me if I'm off the team. I don't want to be their lab rat, Crawford. You can't let them have me/ he whimpered pathetically.

He waited for Crawford's response and the silence nearly killed him. He was terrified that the American would suddenly shut down the link and that would be the end of things. Was Crawford really heartless enough to hand him over to Esset?

The answer came just when Schuldig thought he was going to explode.

/Then grow up Schuldig. Nagi is the child, not you. Go home and wait for me there. We will talk when I return./

It wasn't enough to calm him. Until Crawford said the exact words 'you're staying' or something of the like, Schuldig knew that he'd be a wreck, but at least it was something.

/When are you getting back/ Schuldig asked meekly.

Crawford sighed. /When I do Schuldig. Now go home immediately. If you are not there when I return, it's over. Do you understand/

/Yes/ Schuldig nodded weakly for his own benefit. /Yes I understand/

/Good/ Crawford answered. /Because if you disobey this order, I suggest you try not to be found. I suggest you try _very_ hard/

/Crawford/ Schuldig asked tentatively.

/What/

/Did you mean it/

/Yes, I meant it/ Crawford sounded very annoyed. /You said you understood/

/No. Not about that/ Schuldig said, feeling a little hesitant to continue with his question since he was skating on thin ice, but he had to know. /About the kitten and his pout…did you mean it/

/Schuldig…/ Crawford growled in warning. /Don't start/

/Well what are you doing with the kitten anyway/ The German inquired moodily, falling back on his hurt and jealousy to override his fear. /Is this why you wouldn't let me play with the kittens and why you didn't want me out of the house? Because you already had a _date _with one of them tonight/

Anger floated through the link. Crawford thought he'd gone too far.

/Put down the shovel, Schuldig. Your grave is deep enough/

The link slammed closed like a heavy iron door, and the telepath's stomach sunk to his feet. He hoped to hell that he hadn't just ruined his chances for redemption by asking about his leader's chosen company, but it bothered him that Crawford was spending time with the enemy, of all people. And it had hurt like a stab to the chest when Crawford had both complimented the Weiss kitten and insulted Schuldig at the same time.

So the Oracle liked redheads. He just didn't like ones with personality. He didn't like Schuldig.

Suddenly being tortured by Esset didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Schuldig went home with the hope that Crawford was just messing with everyone and it was all a part of a plan that he hadn't revealed to the rest of the team just yet.

Too bad it didn't make what Crawford had said to him hurt any less.


	11. Bradley

Breakdown

Chapter 11: **Bradley**

Crawford was giving Schuldig another chance, even though common sense screeched at him to give the German the ol' heave ho. Schuldig did at least deserve to be suspended, but Crawford would decide his fate later when he had a talk with the German. All he knew was that Esset wouldn't be getting their hands on him. His threat had been a scare tactic.

The truth was, Crawford hated Esset more than he hated Schuldig disobeying his orders. He would never willingly hand the German over to Esset's scientists. That would be torture beyond anything Farfarello could devise. Crawford just wanted Schuldig scared. He wanted the telepath to take him seriously. He wanted Schuldig to respect him just as he respected the Oracle on missions. Schuldig would never dare call Crawford anything but his codename on missions and that's the kind of attitude he wanted to keep up when they were not on an assignment.

Crawford hated being addressed by his given name. He was _not_ Bradley to anyone but his mother. When Schuldig called him Bradley, it suggested that they had a closer relationship than Crawford felt they should have. Schuldig was not his friend. It was about time the redhead understood that. Crawford was a teammate and his leader, nothing more. Never anything more.

"Aren't you going to ask why _I'm_ here?"

Crawford frowned over the rim of his glass at the redhead sitting across from him. Abyssinian had been quiet up until now, watching him as he drank with wavering alertness. Crawford hadn't wanted to drink alone, but he certainly hadn't been looking for a conversation either. He thought the redhead would be quiet company.

"No," he shook his head. "I am not curious enough to care why you are here, Abyssinian."

"Ran," the redhead corrected. "Don't call me Aya. Everyone calls me Aya."

Crawford sat back and blinked. The Weiss kitten shouldn't have revealed his true name to his enemy, even if they had a momentary truce. Apparently the redhead was more of a lightweight than Crawford had originally given him credit for.

"I called you Abyssinian," he pointed out, "Not Aya."

Ran didn't appear to be listening to him. The Weiss assassin leaned forward and chinked his empty glass against the bottle of whiskey they were drinking, drunkenly asking for a refill.

Crawford frowned and pulled the bottle away, pouring himself another glass instead. "You've had enough whiskey. I'll order you something else."

Ran pouted and left his glass on Crawford's side of the table as he sat back. "What are you going to order? Poison?"

Crawford smirked. So Ran wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember he was sitting across from an enemy, but he was drunk enough to reveal his name. Interesting.

"No," he said, getting up from the booth. "I'm getting you a bottle of something else." Crawford returned a minute later and handed Ran his drink. The redhead turned his nose up at it, scowling.

"Water?" He asked incredulously. "I'm not drinking that."

"Yes you are. You need it, Ran."

"I do not….Hey!" the redhead's eyes narrowed. "How did you know my name?"

Crawford sighed. "Because you told me a few minutes ago. _That_ is why you are going to drink the water. You need to sober up a little. I am still your enemy and you are foolishly revealing things to me, and then not remembering about it."

Ran continued to glare at Crawford and then his gaze fell to the bottle of water. His lip curled but he grabbed it and uncapped it moodily, downing half the bottle in one go.

Crawford sat back down. "Do I continue to call you Ran, or would you like me to forget that little bit of information?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink, "Or should I be like the others and call you Aya? Why do they call you Aya if your name is Ran, anyway?"

Ran scowled and stared at the table, looking as though he deeply regretted getting drunk. "They call me Aya because as far as they're concerned, that is my name. And call me Abyssinian."

Crawford nodded. "Very well, Abyssinian. Why did you choose to be called Aya in the first place?"

"Because I did," the redhead answered angrily. "The reason's none of your business."

Ran appeared to be sobering up fast, Crawford noted. The aggression was coming back quickly and in full force. He tilted his head and studied the redhead for essentially the first time. He'd tangled with Abyssinian before and had been up close, but he'd never actually paid attention to his looks.

Ran was a very pretty man, and his looks were androgynous enough that he could pull of dressing as a woman quite easily. Crawford thought that perhaps that was the reason for his wanting to be called Aya. Perhaps the redhead had aspirations of becoming a woman later on in life and was slowly working his way up to that moment. It would explain the gold, dangly earring he wore at any rate.

"Why the earring?" he asked curiously.

Ran drank the rest of his water and frowned across at him. "That's a personal question."

Crawford shrugged. "It isn't as personal as if I were to ask you when the last time you went to bed with someone was. Which would you prefer answering?"

Ran blushed. "Neither."

Crawford grinned and emptied his glass. "I thought so."

"What did you see?" Ran suddenly asked.

"See?" Crawford wasn't following. "When?"

"When your nose was bleeding before. What did you see?"

"Nothing," Crawford answered simply. "I did not have a vision then."

"So what was it?" Ran pushed, determined to get something out of the Oracle.

Crawford frowned. "A nuisance."

"The same nuisance that forced you to come here?" Ran asked, lifting and eyebrow, and Crawford smirked. The man was sharp.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Crawford replied, deciding that it didn't hurt to reveal something to the redhead. Every team has its issues after all. "Mastermind gets cranky when he's bored, you see."

Ran nodded his understanding. "Balinese is like that too," he sighed. "He's the reason _I'm_ here."

Crawford smirked. "So we were both driven off by teammates and we both chose this…_establishment_ to drown ourselves in drink. If that is not fate, then I don't know what is."

Crawford caught the flicker of a smile before Ran's mouth dropped back into a scowl. "Yeah, I guess," the redhead admitted quietly. "I don't' know why I came here, actually. It just happened."

"As I said, it's fate, Abyssinian. You aren't the bar fly type."

"No," the Weiss assassin shook his head. "You're right. I hate drinking."

Crawford nodded, grinning slightly. "I can see why. You're terrible at it. I'd stick to slicing up individuals with your kattana if I were you."

Ran mumbled his agreement and rested his head back on the padded headrest of the booth, looking drained. Crawford watched him silently and decided that it was probably time for both of them to leave. He at least had an appointment to keep with the telepath and Ran's teammates most likely wouldn't appreciate him being out all night.

Crawford got up and walked the few steps to Ran's side of the booth, Ran's tired gaze on him the whole time. "Let's go Abyssinian." He held out his hand.

Ran stared at it. "Go where?"

"Home," said Crawford, "Before you get too comfortable in that seat and pass out and one of these drunks takes advantage of you."

"That won't happen," Ran scowled.

"You're attractive, drunk, and your reflexes aren't what they normally are. It _will_ happen. Now get up."

Ran blushed and since it didn't look like he was willingly going to move, Crawford leaned forward and grabbed him around the waist, hauling him out of the seat. The redhead snarled and swung out at him, but Crawford had always been faster than Abyssinian, and that was still the case, even when he was mildly tipsy. He leaned back just in time to avoid the punch and slammed the Weiss assassin into the thin wall between the booths, grabbing and pinning his arms at his sides. He held the rest of Ran's body in place by leaning into him, using his weight.

"There," he frowned, "You see how easy that was?"

Ran growled and wriggled, but couldn't free himself. Crawford was glad when he gave up because not only were they enemies and in a compromising position, but the redhead's struggling was creating friction where it shouldn't. Ran seemed to realize that as well as he suddenly looked embarrassed and ashamed.

Crawford let him go. "We're creating a scene, let's go." He took a few steps but turned back when he realized Ran wasn't following. "I said let's go Abyssinian," he growled. "If you want an escort, you have to come with me _now_."

Ran shook his head. "I…can't move," he said. "I'm...I think I'm gonna fall…"

Crawford rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. So the redhead wasn't quite as so sober as he thought. He stomped back over to Ran and wrapped an arm around his waist. Ran instantly blushed again but didn't try to move away.

"Do you…do you have to hold me there?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Crawford answered firmly and began steering him towards the door. The other assassin bumped into him a number of times during the short walk, his usual grace having flown straight out the window. Crawford thought it was sad, but Schuldig would have laughed his ass off for weeks if he ever saw Abyssinian in his current state.

Ran perked up a little when they got outside. The cooler air seemed to do him some immediate good. Crawford looked up and down the street for a taxi, and when he couldn't find one, he realized he'd have to call for one, unfortunately he didn't know the number. He'd left his little black book at home and he hadn't programmed the number into his phone.

He cursed under his breath and looked at the redhead beside him. "I need to go back inside to call for a taxi. Wait out here for me. If you see one, flag it down."

Ran shook his head. "I can walk."

"Only if I hold you up," Crawford argued, letting him go to prove his point. Ran stood on his own for all of two seconds before he swayed and stumbled back into the brick wall behind him. "See?" said Crawford, "You'd find yourself in the gutter or run over in no time. I'll be back."

Ran scowled and grabbed Crawford's sleeve as he made to go back into the bar. "Don't leave me," he said. That was the last thing Crawford ever thought he'd hear from an enemy, but the statement annoyed him more than surprised him. They were wasting time.

"I need to call a taxi, or neither of us is going anywhere, Abyssinian. Stop being a child." He jerked his sleeve back. "Wait here."

Ran frowned and dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged against the wall. "Hurry up then," he said moodily. His actions were so close to Schuldig's that it was unnerving. Crawford wondered if it was a redhead thing.

Even though it annoyed him that Ran had given him an order, he said nothing as he went inside the bar. He continued to keep his cool, despite the irritating amount of time it took to get the bartender's attention—Crawford supposed that the man could sense that he wasn't ordering a drink so he took his time walking over—but he nearly flipped when the bartender failed to provide him with a number for a taxi service. In fact, no one in the bar would give him one. Either the bar was filled with permanent patrons, or people drove home drunk. It was at moments like these that Crawford wished he were a telepath like Schuldig.

/Crawford? Where are you/

Crawford groaned and left the bar, Schuldig was right on cue. /You were meant to leave me alone until I returned, Sch…/ He trailed off when he stepped outside and saw no sign of Ran.

/…uldig/ The German thought he'd finish for him. /Or Honey Bun. I could go for that too/

Crawford knew that Schuldig was testing the waters with a joke. Of course he wanted to see if Crawford was still furious with him. And although he wasn't necessarily at the moment, the American knew that he could get to that point very quickly if Schuldig kept it up.

/Leave me alone Schuldig. I'm coming home/

/How? You don't have your car. I can't have you walking around drunk. Someone could take advantage of you before I get to./

Crawford growled. The Schuldig he knew was back.

/I'm not drunk/ he snapped /The Weiss Kitten is. I want you to tell me where he is/

/Why/ Crawford could feel Schuldig's pout.

/Because I said so. And after that I want you to pick us up/

/Nein/ replied Schuldig /I'm not driving just so you boys can get it on in the backseat/

/We won't. And I'd watch my words, Schuldig. Must I remind you how close you are to becoming Esset's lab rat/ Crawford growled.

Schuldig sent him a scowl. /I'm already their lapdog/ he countered /Being a lab rat isn't much of a step down/

/Schuldig, please just find the Kitten. We will discuss your situation later/ Crawford said desperately and stopped pacing along the sidewalk when he heard a groan from a nearby alley. He walked up to it and shook his head. /Never mind the Kitten. I found him. Just come pick us up. Read the Kitten's mind to know where we are/

/Why are you helping him? And why can't I read _your_ mind/

/Because I am. And because you have no self control. Now get over here. You have fifteen minutes/

/Are you kidding? I need at least twenty to get there./

Crawford scowled and approached the fallen Abyssinian. Ran looked up at him dismally from where he was kneeling on all fours on the ground, another very compromising position to be found in. A pool of vomit was right in front of him. Crawford wrinkled his nose.

/You'll have no trouble getting her in _ten_ Schuldig. I know how you drive. Just get here. Now./

/Ja ja. I'm on my way.../

The link closed and Crawford sighed, helping Ran to his feet. "Our lift is coming," he said quietly, deciding not to mention the fact that it was Mastermind who would be their chauffeur.

Ran nodded silently and made to wipe his mouth with his hand. Crawford grabbed his wrist before he could and pushed his hand back to his side. He reached into his jacket for his handkerchief. "Here," he said, offering the redhead the piece of cloth. Ran accepted it and wiped his mouth. Crawford made him hold onto it. He didn't want it back now.

"We're going to wait in front of the bar."

Ran followed along obediently, not that he had a choice in any case since Crawford was holding him around the waist again. He leaned into the taller man.

"When is the taxi coming?"

Crawford smirked softly. "Fifteen minutes at the latest if he knows what's good for him."


	12. Fujimiya

Again didn't feel like proofing. Hope it flows.

Breakdown

Chapter 12: **Fujimiya**

Ran made himself as immoveable as possible as he glared at the driver of the car that had just pulled up in front of him and Crawford. This was not a Taxi. This was a stylish car driven by yet another of his enemies, Schwartz's Mastermind. Crawford had lied to him.

"Relax Abyssinian," the American told him calmly, trying to urge him forward with a gentle push. Ran bent his legs and stood stiff, refusing to move, a look of intense concentration on his face as he struggled to stay standing. The alcohol working through his system had other plans, however. He toppled forward but Crawford was quick to catch him and hold him around the waist. A strong blush rose in his cheeks as he was pulled back against a muscular chest.

"You're shaking," Crawford said softly in his ear. Ran could almost feel the amused smile, "Are you cold Abyssinian?"

Ran's breath hitched and he clenched his fists, stopping his hands from shaking, even if he couldn't stop his whole body from doing so. Crawford held him a little tighter as he began to sag and Ran grabbed onto his wrists in a sorry attempt to free himself.

"Hey, I'd have brought popcorn if I knew there'd be a show," Schuldig smirked, holding the driver's side door as he stood by the car, watching them intently. There was something in his eyes that made Ran feel his words weren't as playful as his tone suggested they were.

Ran grew even more uncomfortable under his gaze and tried to pull away. Crawford let him go but he still wasn't feeling steady enough on his feet to stand on his own. He held onto the dark-haired man's suit jacket and sleeve, his knees buckling. Ran felt Crawford's warm hands on his hip and under his elbow, supporting him.

A soft growl came from the German redhead. "Aww, looks like the kitty wants to you to pick him up, Oracle," Schuldig teased, but there was suppressed venom in his voice. Ran noticed it, even in his drunken state.

Crawford caught on as well. "Get the in car," the American ordered and Schuldig obeyed, albeit a little reluctantly. Crawford waited until Schuldig was behind the wheel with the door closed before he half carried the drowsy Ran to the backseat.

Ran heard the click as the back door opened and then Crawford helped him lay back on a soft, padded leather seat. Crawford bent Ran's legs and then shut the door. Ran expected him to take the passenger seat after that, and so did Schuldig, but Crawford had other plans. He walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door. He gently lifted Ran's head and sat down, then eased his shoulders back to the seat as he closed the car door.

"Drive," Crawford said to the surprised and livid telepath who was glaring back at him and Ran in the rearview mirror.

Ran stared hazily up at the American, completely lost as to what was going on. Crawford was staring fixedly at Schuldig's reflection so he offered him no guidance.

Ran was far more worried now than he had been throughout the entire evening. Having a drink with the enemy was bad, but getting in the car with two enemies, lying in the lap of one of them was something far worse. What the hell had he gotten himself into? And how had storming away from Yohji Kudou evolve into this?

Ran began to panic as Schuldig finally took the cue from Crawford and started the car. Ran jerked his head up and got instantly dizzy. He dropped his head back down and Crawford grunted and clenched a fist, his crotch not appreciating the sudden hard contact.

"Relax," the precog warned him through clenched teeth, obviously in pain, "Or I will get Mastermind to knock you out."

"Permanently…" the German muttered. Crawford said nothing to his teammate's reply but his look was enough to silence the German. Schuldig would keep his comments to himself if he knew what was good for him.

But even though it appeared that Crawford was on his side, Ran was far from comforted, mainly because he could not fathom why the Oracle was suddenly being nice to him. They were enemies. They had been enemies since the moment they met. They fought every time they came together. So why was this time so different? Because they weren't on a mission? Because the encounter had been so out of the blue? Ran really didn't know. And drunk or not, he wanted answers.

"He's thinking of groping you, _mein fuehrer_," Shuldig said as he pulled away from the bar. "He wants your gun."

Ran flushed. The German had misread his thoughts.

Shuldig cackled loudly. "Oh no _Prinzessin_, it's your mind that's in the gutter. I was talking about an actual gun. The one in Oracle's shoulder holster" He shook his head as he glanced back in the rearview, smirking. "_Mein Gott_, how long _has_ it been since you spread your legs for anyone Kitten? Such a dirty little mind you have. But I guess that can't be helped when your head's resting on the prize."

Ran's face had never felt quite so hot before. The heat from his embarrassment felt like it covered his entire body and he had no way of hiding his fierce blush. This was the single most humiliating moment of his life. He was quite certain of that.

"Leave him alone. And turn left at the next light," Crawford said, thankfully not looking at Ran. The redhead wondered if it was an intended courtesy. "We're dropping Abyssinian off at the park."

"Why?" Schuldig asked. Ran wanted to know the very same thing. Last time he checked, he didn't live in the park.

"Balinese is looking for Weiss' lost kitten," said the Oracle. "I had a vision. He will be driving by there shortly, and so he will find him."

"Why aren't we just killing him, Crawford?" Mastermind asked angrily, not even noticing the fact that he hadn't used his leader's codename.

Ran tensed when he saw the anger on Crawford's face as he answered his subordinate. "My decision. My orders Mastermind. Don't question me. Just do as I say," he growled. "Now pull over."

Schuldig did as he was told and got out of the car to help Crawford drag and lift Ran out of the backseat. They propped him against a tree by the side of the road, under a streetlamp where he would be clearly visible to passing cars, then they left him without another word and got back in their car and drove off.

Ran had expected some parting words form Schwartz's leader but he'd gotten barely a glance. It almost hurt. And it scared Ran to think that he was disappointed by their cold parting. What did he expect from an enemy?

More, was the answer. After the strange evening they had shared, Ran expected more. He didn't know Crawford's true intentions, and he couldn't understand his own response to the man's words and actions. He had barely fought Crawford when he had gotten close and he had pretty much allowed himself to be held. Crawford had talked with him, even somewhat candidly, and he had defended him from his teammate. After that, anyone would expect more than _nothing_ to end the night. Ran thought he deserved at least a 'Goodbye' or 'I'll kill you when next we meet' or 'I hope you enjoyed the free drinks because this changes nothing between us.' Something. Anything.

But no. Ran was literally kicked to the curb and that was it. _Saiyonara_ and all that Jazz.

The redhead sighed and slid down the trunk of the tree. The bark scratched him on the way down but he didn't care. He was still tingling from the drinking he'd done and he was too somnolent to stand.

What he'd just experienced with Schwartz's leader was a complete mystery to him, but Crawford must have a secret agenda. It was the only reasoning that the perpetually suspicious Ran Fujimiya would accept. Crawford was toying with him and Ran just knew that the night would come back to bite him in the ass.

Sooner rather than later.


	13. Kudou

Breakdown

Chapter 13: **Kudou**

Yohji was at the end of his rope. He'd given up quality clubbing time to search for Ran and he'd come up blank at every stop. Driving around town was getting him no where and he had absolutely no idea where is teammate had gone. The worry was driving him crazy. As far as he knew, Ran had no interest in anything so there wasn't even a good place to start looking for the redhead. And Ran had yet to check in with any of the members of Weiss.

This was just too irresponsible. This was Yohji's attitude, not Ran's. The blond got to thinking that maybe he'd finally rubbed off on the redhead, and somehow that didn't actually make him happy. If anything, he wanted Ran to be a little more personable, not careless.

At first Yohji had been glad that Ran wasn't home. It gave him and Ken time to work on the ruined arrangements, but when ten o'clock rolled around, and then eleven, Yohji couldn't take it anymore. If Ken could sit still and finish the arrangements, then more power to him. Yohji was done. He needed to find Ran.

Yohji had grabbed his keys and ducked out after saying a quick goodbye to the rest of his team. Ken was pissed because he thought Yohji was just going out to party, but finding Ran was the playboy's sole priority, which was a first for him. Ran wasn't exactly a people person, so Yohji was worried he'd get himself into all kinds of trouble. And yes, the redhead was capable of defending himself in a fight, but it didn't stop Yohji from worrying. Even Ran couldn't dodge, or fend off a bullet with his fists.

Yohji drove past a set of traffic lights and had to slam on the breaks when he realized that he'd driven past a slumped form on the sidewalk which looked very much like Ran. Even this late at night, there were enough motorists on the road to give him a piece of their mind, but Yohji ignored their angry horn honking and reversed his car back a few meters, parking it half on the sidewalk. He jumped out immediately and rushed to his teammate's side.

"Aya!" he dropped to his knees and grabbed the redhead's face, tilting it back to look into his eyes. Ran definitely looked out of it. Yohji immediately suspected the worst, that someone had taken advantage of him, but his clothes weren't ripped or torn in any place so he was probably just being paranoid.

Ran gave him a half hearted snarl. "I told you to call me Abyssinian."

Yohji looked puzzled and he cocked his head to the side, the confused puppy dog face taking full effect. "Aya?" he asked, "You ok? We're not on a mission. Why do I have to call you by your codename?"

Ran blinked and narrowed his eyes, realizing that he was talking to a familiar blond and not Crawford. "…oh…Yohji…right." He nodded, eyelids drooping.

Yohji was more stunned by that comment than by finding him on some random sidewalk. "What did you just say?" he inquired with widened eyes. Ran wrinkled his nose and grabbed his wrists, tugging on them to pull his hands off his face.

"Let go Kudou."

Yohji frowned. So it was back to _Kudou_ was it? Maybe he'd just imagined that Ran had called him by his first name. He dropped his hands.

"What are you doing out here, Aya? What happened to you? Are you hurt?"

"Shut up and help me up, Kudou." Ran scowled and shifted onto his hands and knees to make it easier for him to stand up. Even worried, the randy part of Yohji's brain was switched on and he had to push away the naughty thoughts as he grabbed Ran's arm and helped him to his feet.

Ran fell into his arms almost immediately and rested his head on Yohji's shoulder, arms completely lax at his sides. Yohji tensed himself for a punch. With how the previous day's events had gone, he expected one, but after thirty seconds of muscle clenching, Yohji exhaled the breath he was holding in and relaxed a little. He moved his hand from Ran's upper bicep to his lower back and stared down at the slightly shorter man, still wary of a punch from left field.

"Aya? Have you been drinking?" Yohji never would have believed it but up this close, he could definitely smell booze on the redhead's breath, whiskey he suspected, and cigarette smoke and the general unsavory bar smells on his clothing and hair, as well as something very reminiscent of vomit. If Ran had been drinking, it hadn't gone down well. "Aya?"

"Carry me to the car Kudou," the redhead groaned, and had Yohji not known that Ran was very drunk, that noise would have been so much hotter than he already found it.

"You want me to what?" Yohji had to make sure he'd heard correctly. He didn't want to get punched for assuming Ran said something that he hadn't.

"Damn it Kudou! I can't walk on my own. Help me," Ran pleaded. Even drunk, it looked like it was killing the redhead to admit that. Yohji could see he was struggling to pull off a glare, even if he was failing miserably. He found it sad that Ran would always see asking for help as a weakness.

Yohji studied him for a long moment and then sighed quietly. "Alright Aya," he said gently.

Ran dropped his gaze as he slowly lifted his arms and held Yohji around the neck. The blond felt his heartbeat quicken. This could have been a fantasy come to life, but instead it was a torture because he knew he couldn't close the distance between them and kiss Ran.

Someone in the heavens hated Yohji Kudou.

"Hurry up, I'm getting cold," Ran said, snapping the playboy back to reality.

"Oh…right," Yohji said and scooped up the redhead into his arms. He carefully carried him over to his Seven and grunted as he set him down in the passenger seat. He then took off his light coat and laid it across Ran's shoulders like a blanket. The redhead frowned but didn't stop him, and even snuggled a little into it. Yohji smiled to himself and walked back over to the driver's side of the car and hopped in, starting the ignition immediately. He pulled into traffic and headed in the direction of home.

Neither said a word as they drove along but after a while, Yohji couldn't stop himself from asking what Ran had been up to all night.

"Aya?" he began, "What happened tonight?" Ran didn't respond and Yohji frowned. "Look Aya, I know you like your privacy, but I got a right to know. You're a part of Weiss and teammates worry about each other. You could have been seriously hurt."

Yohji waited what he figured was an acceptable amount of time for Ran to answer but the redhead still said nothing. He gripped the steering wheel harder in irritation and sighed heavily, turning to look at Ran.

"Aya. Come…on…" Yohji's brow furrowed and he drifted off when he caught sight of the shorter man. It looked as though he'd have to try for answers later because Ran was fast asleep, with his head falling back against the headrest, his lips slightly parted.

Yohji smiled and shook his head, forcing himself to turn his attention back to the road. It was nice to see Ran not glaring for a change. He looked so at peace in his drink induced sleep. Yohji would have found it cuter if he wasn't so worried by it.

Somehow he just knew it was the calm before the storm.

Tomorrow would be…interesting.


	14. Telepath

Breakdown

Chapter 14: **Telepath**

Crawford was staying closed off to Schuldig. He wouldn't talk the entire drive home, immediately shut down any attempted mental conversations, and didn't so much as glance at the German when Shuldig had held the front door open for him when they'd arrived home. Not only did his leader's rudeness anger the telepath, but it also made him worry that Crawford wasn't going to explain anything to him, let alone discuss his current standing in the team. But Schuldig wouldn't let this slide. He was entitled to some answers. He'd given up watching his 'late night stories' to be a damn chauffeur to Crawford and the enemy after all. Now he would never know if a spontaneous orgy would break out at Veronica and Winston's wedding.

Schuldig growled. "Crawford," he said, closing the front door a little harder than was necessary, and followed his leader through the house.

"Don't slam doors and keep your voice down, Schuldig. Nagi is sleeping."

"Fuck Nagi!"

"You better not be," Crawford said sternly as he made his way to his bedroom.

Schuldig snarled and stomped after him. "Are you going to tell me why I drove you and your hot little date around?" he gestured wildly with his hand as he spoke.

"I'm going to bed, Schuldig."

"We were supposed talk!"

"Yes, 'were', Schuldig. Were. But now I'm too tired to deal with you so maybe we'll talk tomorrow."

"Maybe!?" Schuldig's voice reached a decibel that would have allowed aliens on Saturn to hear the indignation in his voice. "I came to pick you and your boy toy up, I stopped where you told me to, and I didn't kill the fucking kitten. And now you're too tired to 'deal with me'?"

"Exactly."

Schuldig clenched his teeth. "_Scheisskerl_!" he growled. "You almost made me piss myself when you told me that I was off the team, and now you're making me wait until morning to hear if I'm actually still a part of Schwartz? What kind of cruel bastard are you, Bradley?"

"A tired one, Schuldig," Crawford answered as he entered his bedroom. He made to close the door but the telepath pushed it back open and held it against the wall, glaring at the American.

"Don't you fucking dare close that door, Bradley."

"Don't give me orders," Crawford glowered, "And _stop_ calling me Bradley."

"Stop being an asshole."

"You're doing it again, Schuldig." Now Crawford's teeth were bared. "And I told you to lower your voice."

"Yeah, you also said we'd talk. And I want to talk, Braaadley." Schuldig whined his name on purpose and was pleased to get an angry hiss from his leader. He knew the attitude wasn't helping his case, but Crawford was being a jerk.

"Go to your room, Schuldig,"

"_Go to your room?" _Schuldig snorted resentfully. "What am I? Five?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Crawford answered seriously.

Schuldig growled and pushed his way into the bedroom. He expected Crawford to fight him, but instead the American turned and shut the door quietly, sighing. Schuldig took a few seconds to look around the room while his leader's back was turned. Although he'd seen the interior of the room from the doorway, he still thought that maybe it would magically become more interesting if he were standing in it.

He was mistaken.

Just like Crawford's office, there was very little in the Oracle's bedroom. A dresser, a bed and a side table was all the furnishings he had. Everything was neat, military clean, there was no clutter anywhere. Schuldig was deeply disturbed. No human could have a room this clean, this sterile. Even a hospital room appeared more inviting.

Schuldig couldn't help wrinkling his nose as he finally met Crawford's eye.

"There's something seriously wrong with you, Bradley," he said, shaking his head. "This is just not right. You need help."

Crawford's brow furrowed, not quite understanding. "How do you mean?"

"This room! It's too clean. You don't actually sleep in here, do you?"

"Of course I do," Crawford said, scowling.

Schuldig still didn't believe him. "What? Do you hover over the mattress?"

"No," Crawford growled, "Some people actually make their beds in the morning."

"Not like _this_ they don't," Schuldig said, pointing to the bed. "Not even military personnel are _that_ anal. What did you do? Staple the blankets to the mattress?"

"Leave it alone, Schuldig. My habits are not important."

"Maybe not to _you_ Bradley, but I think you need some help."

Crawford folded his arms. "Then it's a very good thing that your opinion means nothing to me."

Schuldig scowled and walked over to the bed. "I'm going to do you a favour, Bradley."

"Don't-" Crawford began, but it was too late. Schuldig grabbed the edge of the top quilt and yanked it off the bed; a pillow followed it onto the floor. And that should have been enough to ruin the pristinely made bed, but Schuldig quickly noted that Crawford must have glued down each layer individually because the sheets were still neatly folded and tucked under the mattress. It made no sense and it called for drastic measures. Before Crawford could stop him, the German kicked off his shoes and leapt onto the bed.

"You childish bastard!" Crawford growled and lunged at the telepath. Schuldig laughed and bounced out of his reach but Crawford caught his pant leg and jerked it when he was on his way down. Schuldig tumbled face first off the bed, letting out a small distressed cry as his top end hit the floor and his lower body stayed on the mattress. Crawford quickly climbed on top of him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. The telepath wriggled and tried to buck him off his back, keeping up the struggle even though his hair was being yanked, and somehow he managed to squirm off the bed without losing a clump of his fiery locks. Unfortunately Crawford's hand had taken on the shape of a claw and he was still holding Schuldig securely and wouldn't let go, even when the telepath reached back to try and pull himself loose.

"_Verdammt_!" Schuldig yelled and swung a fist at Crawford, but the American grabbed his wrist and pushed it to the bed, squeezing hard. Schuldig gasped in pain. "Mercy! I give up," he thumped on the floor with his palm, scrunching his eyes closed, "I give up!"

Crawford waited a moment and then gave a satisfied snort, letting him go. Instantly relieved, Schuldig rubbed his sore wrist and slowly climbed to his feet. He very gradually lifted his eyes to meet Crawford's, seeing the dark-haired man's gaze narrow immediately.

"You gave up," Crawford reminded him, not liking Schuldig's sudden grin at all. The German's smile only widened at his words.

"The battle, _Liebling_," Schuldig cooed, "I gave up the battle."

Crawford growled low, "I told you not to call me that. And there is no battle here."

"No of course not," the German agreed readily, "We're back to the war."

"And what is the aim of this war?" Crawford asked, continuing to lose patience with the redhead.  
"Shouldn't you know?" Schuldig snorted. "Not much of a warlord if you can't keep track of your own goals, Bradley."

"I am not a warlord," Crawford growled. "And I know what I want, I want you to behave. I want you to obey me."

"Mmm…" the redhead smirked, "That's my big old warlord. But you know, that's also the attitude we have to work on. You need to loosen up _Bradleykins_."

Crawford's eyes widened, but he didn't look so much surprised as murderously angry. "You did _not_ just call me that, Schuldig," he whispered icily.

Schuldig huffed and rolled his eyes. "_Mein Gott_. Loosen. Up. Brad-ley," he said, "Nicknames aren't going to kill you."

Crawford glared and climbed off the bed, stepping up in front of the redhead, standing just an inch or two taller than the other man. "So this is war, yes?"

Schuldig smirked and nodded, his eyes flicking down Crawford's body before returning to meet his eye. "I would say so. You want me to behave and I want you to loosen up. Those motives would create tension, don't you think?"

Schuldig flinched as Crawford grabbed his shirt collar. He was expecting maybe a punch or a harsh jerk, but instead, the dark-haired man just held him in place, suddenly smirking himself.

"Crawford?" the German asked, slightly unsettled, yet intrigued.

"And what if I got you to behave by loosening up, Schuldig?" Crawford said smoothly, sliding his hands down Schuldig's shirt collar to the first done-up button, which happened to be the third, and popped it open. Schuldig felt a flutter of excitement, wanting to groan at the sound of the American's deep voice. "We would find ourselves at a standstill, wouldn't we?" Crawford finished, watching the telepath steadily.

Schuldig swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from his leader. He didn't know if this was a fantasy come to life or if this was suddenly going to go very bad, very quickly. He decided to just answer the question and hope for the best. He didn't want to have to apologize to his disappointed crotch later for getting its hopes up, literally.

"Um…_ja_?"

Crawford grunted. "Eloquently put, Schuldig." He let go of the redhead's shirt and stepped back, removing his own shirt as he walked, leaving him in his white undershirt. He folded the garment neatly and placed it on his dresser.

Schuldig could already feel the drool accumulating at the front of his mouth, and he tried his very best to keep it contained as his eyes roamed over his leader's exposed skin. He wanted to tear the undershirt right off his back because he wasn't content with just seeing Crawford's well-muscles arms and shoulders. There was oh so much more hidden underneath and he wanted to get at it.

"You want me, Schuldig," Crawford said matter-of-factly, glancing back at the telepath as he removed his glasses. "I'm not oblivious to that. Subtlety is not your strong point, I'm sure you know that."

Schuldig wasn't listening. He was trying to will the shirt off Crawford's back. The dark-haired man frowned, noticing this. "…and neither is paying attention to what I'm saying." He clapped his hands sharply and Schuldig broke from his trance.

"Huh?" Schuldig blinked, a little disoriented for a second. "Were you saying something?"

Crawford closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, reaching out blindly to put his glasses on the dresser. Schuldig could not understand why that act was so sexy to him, but it was.

"Schuldig, we are going to come to a truce," Crawford said, looking back at him.

Schuldig raised an eyebrow. "A truce?"

"We are going to end this war, as you call it," the dark-haired man said, walking back to the bed and his side. "You are going to listen to me. And since threats haven't worked in the past, I am going to give you some incentive so you will obey."

Schuldig really hoped incentive was code word for 'rough animal sex.'

He looked down as Crawford reached for his shirt again and slowly undid the remaining buttons, pulling if off his shoulders once he was done, letting it hang at his elbows so the telepath's range of motion was limited. He took a step closer and Schuldig could feel his warm, slightly sour breath on his face.

Schuldig licked his suddenly dry lips and stared into his leader's amber eyes, hoping to hell he wouldn't suddenly wake up to learn that this was all a dream. "Incentive?" he asked, his voice sounding raspy since his throat had strangely gone dry as well.

Crawford didn't answer him with words, but he leaned in for a kiss, pressing his soft lips against Schuldig's, making the telepath reel and shut his eyes. Schuldig felt like such a girl for thinking it, but he could have fainted right then and there. Reality was just too much.

And then the kiss had ended and Crawford was calling to him, the words sounding foggy in his ears.

"Mm…Crawford…" Schuldig smirked softly and opened his eyes, but groaned loudly as he was hit by a blinding light. "Argh…you need more romantic lighting, Bradley."

"Take it up with the sun, Schuldig," Crawford answered. "It's time to get up."

"Get up?" Schuldig said in confusion, still trying to get adjusted to the light. "Wait, SUNLIGHT!?" He suddenly became quite panicked. Hadn't it just been night?

Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It was morning. He was not actually standing anymore, but was lying on a mattress. That fact became blatantly obvious when he felt his body dip to the right as Crawford got off the bed. Crawford's bed. The sheets weren't soft enough to be Schuldig's, and when he sat up and finally regained clear vision, he saw the rest of Crawford's room, that same as it had been the night before.

Schuldig wanted to cry. It was still supposed to be the night before. What had happened?

"If I had known I could have subdued you with a single kiss, Schuldig, I would have done it much sooner."

Crawford smirked at the redhead's lost face as he walked around to his dresser to get a change of clothes. He was now dressed in dark sleeping pants and a t-shirt. It made Schuldig want to blubber all the more. He'd missed the wardrobe change.

"What happened?" Schuldig asked in a pathetic voice, dreading the answer.

Crawford turned and gave him the most dreadful smile he'd ever seen the American make. It was the look of pure sadistic joy. It was the look of Farfarello. And it sent a chill down the telepath's spine.

"I kissed you," Crawford said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice, "And you fainted."

"I what?" Schuldig whined, close to depressed tears.

"You heard me," Crawford turned back to his drawers and picked out some fresh undergarments, "And I was going to let you fuck me too. What a shame you couldn't stay awake."

"What?" It was nothing more than a whimper.

Crawford didn't bother repeating himself. "Get up and get dressed, Schuldig. I want you out of my bed so I can change the sheets." He walked over to the closet and grabbed a clean suit and headed for the door. "You better be gone by the time I get out of the shower. I already did you a kindness by letting you stay in my bed with me last night. I won't have you sleep in while in it either."

Crawford left. And Schuldig cried. He had been so close. So close.

He had fainted.


	15. Ken

Breakdown:

Chapter 15: **Ken**

Ken was on the morning shift with Ran, and like usual when he was paired up with the redhead, he wasn't looking forward to it. Sharing a shift with Ran meant that he'd be in store for hours and hours of boredom. It was always all work and no play with Ran.

Ken didn't mind working, but he also didn't like to do it in silence. He could hold conversations or joke around with the other members of Weiss, but Ran preferred listening to the usual background noises of the shop as opposed to another person's thoughts or opinions.

Any time Ken had attempted a conversation, he'd either been ignored, told to talk less and pay more attention to what he was doing and at the same time, called a distraction, or simply have his words shot down by a simple grunt or a _leave-me-alone_ glare. In fact, practically the only time Ran ever spoke to Ken in the shop was to give him an order or to yell at him for breaking or knocking something over. That, of course, would always be followed by the demand that he clean up whatever mess he'd made.

In short, Ran was just terrible company.

When Ken headed down to the Koneko after eating a quick breakfast, he was more or less psyched for his _sentence_. He could handle another morning with Ran. He'd done it countless times before and at least the arrangements were fixed so no one would get gutted.

He had planned to say good morning to Ran as he arrived, like usual, but froze in the doorway, and was shocked to find not a redhead, but a tall blond busy watering the plants in the shop.

"Yohji?" Ken said in confusing, wondering if he'd gotten his shift wrong. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd thought it was a different day of the week. "Isn't…"

"Hm?" Yohji looked up from his watering and gave him a small welcoming smile, "Oh, morning Kenken. Sleep well?" He looked and sounded tired, if not way more hung-over than usual.

Ken stared at him, feeling a little irritated. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't still angry with Yohji for ditching him and leaving him with the arrangements to fix the night before. "Hard night, Yohji?" he asked bitterly.

Yohji sighed. "More than you know, Kenken. I didn't get to sleep at all."

"No shit. And that's supposed to be something new?"

Yohji put down the watering can and rubbed his tired eyes. "I wasn't partying Kenken. I was out looking for Aya."  
"Aya? Shit…I forgot why I was busting my ass to fix those arrangements."

Yohji frowned. "I'm sure he'd be happy to know you cared."

Ken sighed and went into the back for a second to get his apron. He came back, tying it on. "So where did you find him anyway…or did you even?"

"I found him," said Yohji, shuffling over to the worktable to drink the coffee that he'd left there. Ken now knew why there had been a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. Since Ran was a tea drinker, he thought that maybe the redhead had been considerate and made him some coffee, but apparently that hadn't been the case.

"Drove around forever," Yohji went on, "Finally found him on the side of the road in front of the park. Nearly missed him."

"Park?" Ken frowned and walked to the front of the shop to unlock the door since Yohji had neglected to do it. "What was he doing there? Did he say?"

"He didn't say much to be honest, Kenken," Yohji said tiredly.

"Well what did he say? He must have still been angry with you."

"Um…not exactly," said Yohji. "Least he didn't bring anything up…And you might want to put your hands in your pockets and stand really still for a second."

The brunette scowled, "What? Why?"

"Because you're probably going to freak when I tell you this and I don't want you to break something," Yohji said calmly, gulping the last of his cooling coffee.

Ken grunted angrily and clenched his hands into fists, ever the short-tempered one. "Just say it, Yohji. It can't be that bad."

The blond stared at him a moment and then shrugged. "Fine. This going to sound messed up but…I think Aya was drunk."

"WHAT!?" Ken took a surprised step back and knocked into a table, sending a pot of begonias crashing to the floor.

Yohji groaned. "I told you Kenken." He sighed and got up. "I'll go get the broom."

Ken ignored the mess he'd made and hurried after Yohji as he went to the backroom. Ran couldn't seriously have been intoxicated. It was just something that didn't happen. "What do you mean Aya was drunk?" Ken asked, "Aya doesn't get drunk."

Yohji turned, holding the broom out. "Yeah, I know. That's why it shocked the hell out of me. He was all clingy and couldn't walk on his own, and he actually asked me to carry him to the car."

Ken shook his head, wide-eyed, as he reached out to take the broom from Yohji. "That doesn't sound like our Aya, Yohji." He scooped up the dustpan himself and carried it out of the backroom.

"I know," Yohji agreed, following him back into the shop, "But it's the truth. And that's why I'm taking his shift. Thought I'd let him sleep. Figure he'll have a bitching hangover since he must be one hell of a lightweight."

Ken nodded, figuring that Yohji probably had the right idea. It was just strange though, to think that Ran had actually consumed alcohol, and had gotten himself drunk, and had willingly draped himself all over the blond playboy, if indeed Yohji was telling the truth. He wondered if Ran would remember any of it. And if he did, what would be his reaction?

"You think he's going to blame me, Kenken?" the blond as quietly as he helped Ken clean up the mess.

Ken shrugged. "Dunno…but considering that it's Aya, you might want to book a ticket to someplace warm after all."

"Yeah…" Yohji said dismally, dumping broken pot shards into the trash. "You're right. I'm a dead man. Aya's not gonna care that I brought him back safe and sound 'cause I'm the one who chased him out in the first place."

Ken had to agree. It was exactly the way Ran worked. Because the redhead couldn't deal with feeling or showing that he could be vulnerable, just like any other human being, he would get frustrated and take it out on someone. Ken knew that Yohji would be that someone. The blond basically begged for the swordsman's wrath.

"Why do you do it, Yohji?" Ken asked, standing up to sweep up the dirt. "You know Aya's just going to react badly when you touch him. Is it really that funny?"

Yohji stared up at him from his crouched position on the floor, taking his time in answering. "I don't do it because it's funny…necessarily," he said, and Ken raised an eyebrow, wondering what the real reason could be. Yohji sighed and stood up, dusting off his hands on his apron. "It's just…I'm just checking up. You know, to make sure he hasn't turned into a complete block of ice."

Ken wasn't all that impressed with his reasoning. "Yohji, you don't have to hang all over him to know that he's still just an antisocial human being."

Yohji sighed. "Don't you ever get the urge to touch him?"

"What?" Ken blushed slightly. "What the hell are you talking about, Yohji? No, of course I don't."

"Why not?" said Yohji. "Aya's hot and you like guys."

Ken scowled. "I do not."

"Right, so I just imagined that bond between you and Kase."

Ken wanted to punch Yohji, but he refrained. "One guy, Yohji. One guy. Doesn't mean I want to grope Aya."

The blond snorted. "You can't seriously be telling me that I'm the only one who thinks Aya's a fine piece of ass."

"No," Ken frowned, "That's not what I said. But why do _I_ have to agree with you? There's other people in this world besides me. Aya's got his own fangirls too. And when the hell did you start being a man to more than just the fairer sex anyway?"

"Please, Kenken. Why would I restrict myself like that?" Yohji said, giving Ken one his trademark smirks. "There's enough Yohji Kudoh to go around. I like to think that I'm pleasing both sides."

Ken shook his head and emptied the dustpan into the trash. "You're such a whore Yohji."

The playboy snorted. "So I've been told. So what about Aya? You don't think he's attractive?

"Oh, would you just let it drop already, Yohji?"

"No, not when it's a simple yes or no question, Kenken. Do you, or don't you?"

Ken sighed heavily and walked the broom and dustpan back to the storeroom. "I don't see what it matters, Yohji," he grumbled, "But yeah, I guess I do think Aya's attractive."

"Why?" Yohji asked, clearly amused. And it made Ken want to punch him again.

He growled. "Because he's got a nice body and interesting features. Are you happy?"

Yohji snickered. "Sure Kenken. I'm happy. But what do you think about it, Aya?"

"What!?" Ken's blood ran cold and his eyes widened as he very slowly peered out from the storeroom and saw what he dreaded, Ran standing in the doorway of the Koneko, looking livid and holding his kattana. Ken realized three things then; one was that Yohji was an idiot for not thinking to hide the redhead's weapon, two was that he'd never be able to look Ran in the eye again after what he'd heard him say, and three was that he and Ran were going to have to fight to see who got to kill Yohji Kudou.

Ken coughed. "Oh…morning Aya…"

Ran didn't even glance his way. The redhead's gaze was completely narrowed on Yohji. Ken even saw his grip tighten on his sword as Yohji grinned back at him and wished him a good morning also.

"We need to talk, Kudou," Ran said in greeting, using a tone that let the blond know that he had no choice in the matter.

Yohji shrugged and slowly walked towards him, obviously concerned about being unarmed around the swordsman. "Where?" he asked.

"My room," said Ran, narrowing his eyes at the sudden lecherous grin Yohji was giving him. Ken saw the redhead's knuckles turn white around his sword. Yohji noticed it as well and his smirk died instantly..

"Right," Yohji nodded and turned to Ken. "You can handle the shop by yourself for a little while, right Kenken?"

Ken nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Ran, afraid that any moment Yohji would be skewered.

Ran finally turned his attention to Ken then and frowned darkly, "Don't break anything," he said gruffly. And with those parting words, he walked back into the apartment, expecting Yohji to follow him.

Ken walked out of the storeroom and gave Yohji a slap on the back, instead of a pat because he was still annoyed with him. "Good luck," he said.

Yohji took a deep breath. "Yeah…thanks…And hey, if I don't come back…say something nice at my funeral, okay?"

Ken nodded and watched the doomed blond leave the shop. He so did not envy Yohji at that moment.


	16. Ice Queen

Breakdown

Chapter 16: **Ice Queen**

It was a few minutes before Yohji made his way to Ran's bedroom, and that short amount of time felt like an eternity to the redhead, or an absolute hell. Within those few minutes, Ran had had to force himself not to slam his door closed, lock it, and set up a barricade so Yohji could not get in.

Ran could not believe that he had actually invited the playboy into his bedroom. No one was allowed in his room. It was the only private space he had in the apartment and he kept it off limits to everyone, especially playboys—not that telling all of Weiss to keep the hell out had stopped Yohji last night. Ran knew that he hadn't walked himself to bed last night. He'd been completely down for the count, so it had to have been the blond that had taken off his shoes and socks and tucked him in. It was a good thing for Yohji that he hadn't removed any more articles of his clothing, but at the same time Ran wished he had because he didn't appreciate being reminded of what happened the night before by the smell of his clothing.

Ran remembered everything about last night, everything. And that meant that he recalled chumming it up and having a few drinks with Schwartz's leader in a sleazy bar, getting driven around and dumped on the side of the road by Mastermind, another enemy, and then being picked up and carried bridal style by Yohji Kudou to the car. Ran couldn't remember much more after that because he'd fallen asleep, but he knew that he hadn't dreamt any of it, and that's what scared him. Ran didn't think that anyone else could have made so many mistakes in just one night, even Yohji.

Yohji….God, Ran didn't know what he was going to do about him, or what he was going to say. He should have stuck with his original plan of just gutting the blond where he stood, but Ran had decided to listen to the little voice on his right shoulder that told him to talk things out instead.

When the playboy finally made his way to the bedroom and rapped lightly on the doorframe, Ran wondered if it was too late to listen to the voice on his left shoulder. How could he talk things out when he didn't know what to say? Violence and glaring had always served him better in the past.

"Hey Aya," Yohji said as he entered the room and took the liberty of closing the door behind him. Ran heard the click of the lock and suddenly felt like a caged animal. He moved from the bed and paced towards the window, needing to put more distance between himself and Yohji. He had a sinking feeling in his gut and to stop his hands from shaking, he kept a strangle hold on the hilt of his kattana. He couldn't explain where his calm had suddenly gone, but it was eons away.

"Aya?" Yohji took a step towards him, but was wise enough to stop there since Ran was still armed, "You okay?" he asked tentatively, obviously worried about provoking the man.

Ran nodded once. "Fine, Kudou." Yohji didn't look like he was ready to believe him, but he also wasn't about to press the issue until Ran had put away his sword.

"Am I gonna get stabbed?" the blond said very seriously.

Ran stared at him and then glanced down at the kattana in his hand. "Maybe…maybe not. I haven't decided."

Yohji nodded. "Think you could warn me before you do? I kinda wanna say goodbye to Ken and the Chibi...and maybe flirt with Manx one last time."

Ran scowled and looked out the window, turning his back on the blond. "I'm not going to kill you, Kudou, even if I'd like to."

"Aw, C'mon Aya," Yohji whined, "I thought I redeemed myself last night by helping you."

Ran flinched. "Last night didn't happen, Kudou."

"Oh no," Yohji shook his head, "We're not doing this, Aya. You can't just brush off what happened last night. And I've already told Ken about it, so your secret's out."

Ran's eyes widened and he whipped around, looking shocked and livid all at once. "You what!?" he demanded, sounding slightly panicked. For some reason he had been stupid enough to think that Yohji would have kept the incident to himself until they'd talked about it. But he'd been wrong and suddenly Ran's left shoulder was winning the debate. He wanted to slice Yohji from navel to nose again.

Yohji seemed to catch on to the redhead's thought process and he stepped backwards slowly, holding his hands up. "Whoa, Aya. Don't get crazy here. Ken won't tell anybody…and the Chibi doesn't know yet so you won't get those concerned puppy dog eyes from him." He smiled nervously. "You were just drunk, it happens to the best of us. It's no big deal."

Ran swung his sword out in front of him and narrowed his eyes, daring Yohji not to run for his life. It was the look he gave his victims before he 'denied them their tomorrows.' The blond recognized it and gulped.

"Aya! Stabbing me is no way to show your appreciation for my help last night!"

Ran's lip curled in disdain. "Who says I appreciate it?"

Yohji gawped. "Well you should! You couldn't even stand and I had to _carry_ you to the car, which you _asked_ me to do, I might add. What the hell were you going to do? Sit around in that park, waiting to freeze to death or for some lowlife to molest you?"

"I wouldn't have frozen to death, Kudou," Ran growled. "And they only let me off there because they knew you were coming."

"What? Who did?" Yohji asked, completely and totally confused. Only then did Ran realize what he'd just revealed to him, and in his shock, the kattana slipped from his grip and landed on the floor with a clunk that sounded deafening to him.

Ran swallowed loudly and closed his eyes, trying to wish the moment away unsuccessfully. When that didn't work, he simply turned his back on Yohji and refused to speak. If he didn't acknowledge his slip with words, then maybe it would magically disappear. It was a shame that it wouldn't work with the blond himself.

"Who were you with yesterday?" Yohji asked calmly, inching closer to Ran since his sword was no longer in his hand. Ran stiffened, but gave no answer so Yohji posed another question, one that caught the redhead completely off guard. "Since when do you wear cologne, Aya?"

"What?" Ran turned around and noted that Yohji had come far too close for his liking. They were only a pace apart and he scowled at him, silently telling him to back up, not that Yohji would listen.

"Cologne," Yohji said again, "I smelled it on you last night. Pretty strong stuff. Didn't think you were the type to wear it."

"I don't wear it," Ran snapped, and after a few seconds of running the words over in his mind, he realized his mistake and tried to save himself. "…usually," he said, in a feeble attempt to cover.

"Really?" Yohji sounded surprised. "You keep the bottle in your pocket in case of an emergency? Because you weren't wearing anything in the shop, Aya."

Ran was caught, and he didn't quite know where to go from there. What made matters worse was that he was still wearing his sleep rumpled clothes from the night before and although the smell of what he figured had been Crawford's cologne, had dissipated, he still wanted to rip his shirt off and throw it across the room for betraying him.

He looked away from Yohji, having nothing to say. And Yohji sighed when he failed to get a response, yet again. "You know when you said, 'we need to talk,' Aya, I kind of expected you to do more of the talking."

Ran cursed under his breath and glared at him. "I only wanted to tell you to keep your mouth shut, Kudou," he said bitterly, "But you already failed to do so, so I have nothing to say to you."

"No," Yohji scowled, "I found you on the side of the road, sloshed and smelling like cologne that I _know_ you don't wear, so I think you have plenty to say to me. You just won't."

Ran growled. "It's none of your business, Kudou. I never ask what _you_ do when you go out."

"I also never need to be _rescued_, Fujimiya," Yohji countered, temper rising.

The comment pissed Ran off to no end. "I didn't need to be rescued. I didn't call for help, did I?" he snarled, taking a step towards Yohji to close the distance between them.

"No," Yohji shook his head, narrowing his eyes down at the shorter redhead. "You were lucky enough to have me driving around like a lunatic looking for you. You should have checked in. We were worried."

Even though Yohji had a point, it wasn't like the blond ever took his own advice, so Ran dismissed the statement. "You aren't my parents. I shouldn't have to tell you where I'm going."

"Parents or not, we're still your friends and teammates Aya. You can't just stomp out of the shop and disappear for hours and expect us not to wonder where you are or how you're doing."

"Don't be a fucking hypocrite, Yohji," Ran said angrily, "You _never_ check in. All you ever say is that you're going _out_ or that you have a _hot date._ That isn't much go by if we ever have to track you down." He counted off the list of points on his fingers. "We don't know the names of the women you go out with. We don't know where you take them. And we don't know what clubs you frequent. All we know is that it's somewhere where everyone is dressed like a whore and I'm sure that doesn't narrow down the possibilities. And then of course you have to fuck every short skirt that throws herself at you because you're that much of a slu-"

Ran tasted copper in his mouth and it was a few seconds before he even realized that he was on his ass on the floor, staring up at Yohji and still balled fist. The blond had actually punched him, and quite hard, Ran noted. He wiped away a trail of blood from his lip with the back of his hand and glared up at the playboy.

"What do you think you're doing, Kudou?" he asked venomously.

Yohji narrowed his eyes. "Don't you fucking call me that again, Aya," he growled. "You act like you know what you're talking about, but you don't. And you know what? _You're_ the only one who doesn't know where I go every night. _You're_ the only one who doesn't know the names of the ladies I go out with. I tell those who I know will give a damn. That means Ken and Omi. I used to try to tell you, but you're so fucking hostile that I don't bother anymore. And just for the record? I _don't_ sleep with every short skirt, you ignorant bastard."

Ran lowered his gaze and growled softly, feeling a little bad about judging Yohji as he had done, but he wasn't about to apologize. It wasn't in him to do so.

Yohji sighed heavily. "I just don't get you, Aya. Would it really kill you to be human sometimes? No one put you on a damn pedestal, so stop acting like you're better than everyone. Show a little emotion." He dropped down to his knees and tilted his face to look Ran in the eye. "Last night was great, Aya. I actually got to see part of the real you. If I had known that you needed to be drunk for that to happen, then I would have tired to get you wasted a long time ago. You're not invincible and you're not a block of ice. We all need to depend on someone now and again, and it isn't a bad thing."

Ran looked away and swallowed the lump in his throat. Yohji was doing it again, using that soft voice and staring at him with that strange look in his eye that he'd noticed in the Koneko. It unnerved him to think that he was actually felt comforted by it, and he wanted it to stop.

"Shut up, Kudou," he said quietly.

Yohji smiled sadly and shook his head. "You're never going to open up to me, are you Aya? But that's fine, I'm gonna keep trying. And you don't have to tell me what happened last night if you don't want to. I'd rather not be gutted over it. But if you ever wake up and realize that you're human after all, I'm here to talk. Okay?" He didn't let Ran respond but got up and walked to the door. "Remember to shower and change before your afternoon shift. I'm not a fan of _your _cologne," he said knowingly as he opened the door and left.

Ran waited until the door closed behind Yohji before ripping off his shirt and throwing it across the room as he had wanted to do earlier. He lay down on his floor and stared at the ceiling, wondering if things had gone badly or if things had gone well. He supposed that in the end, it was the latter. Yohji hadn't really pushed for answers. He'd done most of the talking. And apart from the punch, Ran couldn't really find anything to be mad at the blond for. Yohji was actually quite an understanding and easy person to talk to, and it seemed like he genuinely cared about Ran as a person. It felt nice, and that was a startling revelation.

Could Ran actually consider Yohji Kudou a friend? Maybe in time. He'd have to toy with the idea a little more first. But Ran figured that in the meantime, he would try to be a little more civil to the blond, at least. Yohji had helped him out after all. And who knew? Maybe he would even get an apology out of him.

Maybe.


	17. Nagi

Breakdown

Chapter 17: **Nagi**

Nagi was surprised to hear loud thumping when he arrived home from school. It sounded like someone was throwing a basketball continuously against the wall. Of course he knew that no one in the house owned a basketball, or something of the like, so it had to be something else. When Nagi heard loud cursing in an undeniable Irish accent, he knew exactly what that something was.

The teen dropped his book bag on the floor by his discarded shoes and hurried off to Farfarello's room. He tried to tell the Irishman to back away from the door so he could open it, but that just elicited more shouts and, surprisingly, cries for help. In the end, Nagi had to force his way into the room, knocking Farfarello over and onto his mattress by the door. He watched the albino quickly roll over, still clad in his straightjacket, and awkwardly stand before making a break for the door.

"Out of me fuckin' way!" he yelled and breezed past the stunned youth. It was when he heard another familiar voice close by that he realized he wasn't alone in the room.

"Schuldig?" Nagi asked in surprise, wondering why the German hadn't helped Farfarello leave the room if he was shouting and hurling his body at the closed door.

"Oh Nagi! I'm so glad you're here!" Schuldig said, throwing himself at the boy, squeezing the life out of him in what was an attempted hug.

Instantly uncomfortable with the embrace, Nagi blasted him off with his energy. "Don't touch me Schuldig," he said in a monotone. "Now what are you doing in here? And why did Farf want to get out so badly?" He also wanted to know why the Irishman was still in his straightjacket when he should have been let out hours and hours ago.

Schuldig picked himself up and sat cross-legged on his bed, pouting. "You sound like Crawford."

Nagi frowned. "I don't care who I sound like. Why were you holding Farf hostage?"

The German wrinkled his nose at the implication. "I wasn't," he rectified, "I was just telling him how miserable it is to be me."

Nagi sighed and rolled his eyes, in no mood to hear about the misery of Schuldig's life for himself, so he avoided the question. "How long has he been in the jacket?"

"Um…" The German looked thoughtful and then shrugged. "I dunno. What time is it?"

Nagi didn't bother glancing at his watch. "I just got home from school. It's late afternoon."

"Oh…all day then, I guess."

Nagi's jaw dropped unconsciously. "What!? He was locked up _all _day?"

Schuldig grinned innocently. "Well I got talking and lost track of time."

"Well did you at least give him anything to eat?" Nagi asked, hoping the answer was yes.

Schuldig shook his head. "No, but _I_ haven't eaten anything either if it makes you feel any better."

"I don't care that you failed to feed yourself, Schuldig. You're supposed to take care of Farf. This isn't always about _you_, idiot."

"But if you knew what I went through—" Schuldig began to whine, but Nagi cut him off.

"I really don't care." And with those words, he left the German and went off to find Farfarello, who happened to be in the kitchen, clumsily trying to slice through the straight jacket with a knife he'd taken out of the butcher block with his teeth. All he'd managed to do was to make a few nicks in the fabric with a strange, and very dangerous bobbing action. Nagi was afraid that he would end up impaling himself so he quickly grabbed the knife from him and set it down on the counter.

"Turn around and I'll let you out," he said.

Farfarello complied without hesitation. "He was drivin' me fuckin' insane. And that's sayin' a lot, isn't it?" He muttered seriously.

Nagi nodded and freed him from the jacket. "You should have told him to let you out."

"Don't you think I tried? He's becomin' more sadistic than I am. I thought he wanted my ears to bleed or something."

The youth frowned. "Where's Crawford? Why didn't he do something?"

Farfarello shrugged and stretched out his limbs. "Couldn't rightly tell you. Schu said something about him barricading himself in his office. I don't frankly blame him, but it's also the reason why I was tortured all day," he smirked suddenly, an amused gleam in his eye, "It almost happened, you know."

Nagi didn't know. "What did?" he asked, staring into the Irishman's one good eye.

"What I said should happen," Farfarello grinned, "Schu and Crawford almost hurt God last night, but Crawford ended up being too much of a man for Schuldig to handle."

"What?" Nagi's brow furrowed, "They were going to…"

"Fuck," Farfarello finished his sentence and nodded. "But Schu fainted after one kiss and now Crawford's ignorin' him. I found it hilarious at first, but after listening to him whine all day…" he paused and glanced at the knife on the counter, "It's a good thing he didn't let me out."

"…" Nagi didn't know what to say now. He was stunned. He believed what Farfarello told him, but at the same time, he couldn't fathom why Crawford would actually go for Schuldig. They just didn't work together in his opinion.

Farfarello snorted as he watched the confused youth. "Don't think too hard. Crawford won't want yer head to explode before you can plan our next mission."

Nagi frowned. "Do you want something to eat?"

The Irishman shrugged and pushed away from the counter. "Not now," he said, moving to leave the kitchen.

Nagi watched him go. "Where are you going?"

Farfarello laughed and pulled a knife out of his vest, taking a gouge out of the doorframe as he walked through and slashed at it. "Gotta piss," he chuckled darkly. "Then I'm going to tell Schu a story…"

Nagi shook his head. "Don't hurt him, Farf. And here, put that back in your room," he said, tossing the crazed albino his straight jacket. "And don't use that on Schuldig either," he thought he add in warning.

Farfarello looked back at him and grinned, slinging the jacket over his shoulder. "Just like a little Crawford," he said, "Are you sure you don't have a secret crush on Schu too?"

"No of course not," Nagi grumbled. "Don't be stupid. But don't hurt Schuldig anyway. Crawford won't be happy."

"Fine," Farfarello said simply. It always amazed Nagi how easily the Irishman complied. He never put up a fight when anyone told him to do, or not to do something. If only Schuldig could do the same.

Nagi watched his teammate leave the kitchen and then set about making himself a snack and something for Farfarello to stab at later. He then walked his plate into the living room and sat in front of the television to watch a few shows before starting in on his homework.

He'd only been sitting for five minutes when Schuldig slumped into the room and flopped heavily onto the couch, propping his feet up on the cushions and nearly in Nagi's lap, sighing dramatically, woefully, trying to get the youth's attention. Nagi ignored him as he usually did and pointedly turned up the volume on the television to tune him out.

Schuldig pouted. "What are you watching?" he moaned, "This is boring. What's going on?"

Nagi shoved his legs off the couch. "Shut up. I'm trying to watch this."

The German sat up on the couch and folded his arms, scowling at the screen. "Can't you find something more interesting? Flip to one of _my_ channels."

"I was here first," Nagi said, wrinkling his nose at the idea of switching to one of Schuldig's preferred shows. "And I am _not_ watching porn."

"Why not?" Schuldig complained, "It's good for any boy your age."

"No," Nagi said flatly.

"I can give you a live demonstration if you want…"

Nagi felt Schuldig shift closer and by that time he'd had enough. He got up and angrily walked off to Crawford's office. As he walked past Farfarello's room, he felt the Irishman's gaze on him and heard him laughing and calling him a tattletale, but he didn't care. When he got to his leader's door, he knocked a few times loudly and waited for the cue to enter, but there was no answer. He knocked again and this time announced his presence, hearing shuffling from inside and what he figured was a chair being pushed back. A minute or so later the door opened and Crawford was staring down at him.

"Yes Nagi?" the American said, glancing quickly up and down the hallway, probably looking out for an annoying redhead.

Nagi sighed. "You have to tell Schuldig to get out of the house or something. He won't leave me and Farf alone. And did you know that Farf was locked in his room _all_ day?"

Crawford immediately frowned deeply and it was a few minutes before he answered the teen. "Tell Schuldig I want to see him," he said finally as he walked back into his office, leaving the door open.

Nagi nodded and went off to tell Schuldig the news, more than happy to get the German off his back. He was a little annoyed, however, when Schuldig almost trampled him as he rushed off to Crawford's office, running like he was afraid the American would suddenly change his mind and close the door on him again.

Only when Schuldig was safely inside the office did Nagi feel comfortable enough to go back to watching his show. He hoped that Crawford would keep the German occupied for a while, but when 'occupied' took on other meanings in the teen's mind, thanks to the mention of Schuldig's favourite form of entertainment, and what almost happened between Schwartz's leader and the redhead the night before, Nagi became uncomfortable and stopped paying attention to his show.

Annoyed, he hastily turned it off the television and went to his room, deciding to try and occupy his mind with something productive, like his homework. He blasted his music as he worked, making certain that if anything _unusual_ was to happen in Crawford's office, he wouldn't overhear. And considering how things were transpiring lately, Nagi figured it was a worthy precaution.


	18. Precog

Breakdown

Chapter 18: **Precog**

Crawford watched Schuldig bound into his office and shut the door with a flourish. The German looked far too giddy in the dark-haired man's opinion. And when Schuldig sat without an invitation and propped his feet up on Crawford's newly straightened desk, he decided he should step up and start the proceedings before the German also took it upon himself to conduct the conversation.

"Don't say a word, Schuldig," Crawford began, "And don't look so excited. You aren't going to hear what you think you are." He shut the lid of his laptop and focused his attention on the German, giving the man's feet a shove off the desk. Schuldig grabbed the edge of the desk to steady himself and scowled.

"What does that mean?" he said, righting himself in his chair.

Crawford huffed quietly. "I thought the statement was clear enough," he said, "Don't get your hopes up. I didn't call you in hear to tell you that we're going to fuck."

Schuldig was visibly disappointed and he didn't look half as interested to be sitting in Crawford's office anymore. "Then why am I here?" he asked with a pout.

"We have an assignment, and if you would like to remain a part of it, I suggest you behave and pull your weight."

"I always do!" Schuldig answered indignantly.

"Really?" Crawford sounded quite surprised, "Always?"

"When have I ever fucked up a mission?"

"I am not referring to your behaviour on missions, Schuldig. What have you done all day?" Schuldig didn't look like he wanted to answer so Crawford did it for him. "I am going to take a leap here and say that you did absolutely nothing but whine. And although that may be a time consuming and taxing exercise for you, it is unproductive and unimportant, and there were other things to get done. It is not entirely up to Nagi to take care of Farfarello. You shirked your duties for a selfish reason, as usual."

"Farfie's fine," the German muttered childishly.

Crawford sighed. "Schuldig…this may come as a shock to you, but there are other individuals in this world apart from you, most of which are valuable members of society, you might want to follow their example and do what's expected of you for a change."

"…I usually do," the telepath responded unenthusiastically.

"_Occasionally_ is the word I would use, Schuldig," said Crawford, "You follow orders when it strikes your fancy. You have to begin listening to me."

"I listen fine…I just don't always _do_ what you say."

"That's what I'm getting at, Schuldig," Crawford answered tiredly, "Now about this mission, I wanted to talk to you in private before I let the others know."

"I know," Schuldig cut in moodily, "You want me to behave. Can I go now?"

Crawford pursed his lips in annoyance and took a deep breath. "That is not all, Schuldig. Do not interrupt me," he said. "I had a vision. We will run into Weiss on the mission, and I want you to stay completely clear of Abyssinian. Stick to your usual mark, Balinese. Is that clear?"

"Why?"

"Because I wish to avoid as much conflict as possible."

"What exactly did you see me doing?"

"That is not important. I don't want to tempt you by telling you. Just stay away from him. I saw the way you were glaring at Abyssinian and I know you are just itching for the opportunity to do something stupid."

"What the hell do you expect? The bastard was all over you. A rag doll had more spine than him and you were just standing there holding him. What are you playing at Crawford? Why were you cuddling with the enemy?"

"I was not cuddling. And as I've told you before, what I do is none of your business."

Schuldig rolled his eyes and snorted. "Bet Esset would think it's their business though, Bradley."

"…" Crawford fell silent for a good while, in which time he watched the German closely, trying to decide whether Schuldig was covertly threatening him, or just pointing out a fact. After some time he decided on the latter. Schuldig would be in trouble too if Esset got involved.

"I'm sure they would, Schuldig," he said at last, "Now will you help on the mission or remain at home?"

The redhead narrowed his eyes, but instead of arguing about Esset, he took the cue to switch to the next topic. "You can't keep me here, Crawford. I'm part of the team."

Crawford smirked softly and slid some papers his way, happy that he'd let the other subject drop for now. "Do you see what these are Schuldig?"

The German looked down, read the first line quickly, and gasped. "Transfer papers!?"

"Yes," Crawford confirmed, "And do you see whose name is at the top?"

Schuldig stared in disbelief and nodded miserably. "It's...mine."

"It is," said Crawford, "Now look all the way down at the bottom of the page. Do you recognize the signature?"

Schuldig didn't look up. "Yours."

"Mine," Crawford nodded and pulled the papers back, slipping them into a drawer. "Continue to act childish and insolent and I will wash my hands of you. You are one headache that I have finally decided I can do without. Do you understand, Schuldig?"

"…_ja_ _Herr_ Crawford."

Crawford was mildly amused by the formality. "And you will behave?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Schuldig nodded. "_Jawohl_."

"And leave Abyssinian alone and obey my orders?"

"_JA_! To all of the above!"

"Good. Start by changing your tone. Now get out of my office. You and the others will be briefed on the mission later."

Crawford watched Schuldig solemnly get up, though there was no mistaking the anger and hurt in his gaze—not that it bothered the American in the least. He had finally found a way to sedate the German redhead, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to think of using a transfer as a threat. Still, it was better late than never.

The American waited for the door to close before turning in his chair to look out the window. He smiled to himself, thinking about the coming mission. It was sure to be a memorable one; what with Schuldig being convinced to stay out of his and Abyssinian's way, even if the vision had not actually involved the telepath in the slightest. As long as the telepath thought it did, everything would go smoothly.

Crawford was pleased that Schuldig believed everything he told him because the redhead had no way of double checking to make sure, unlike everyone else, whose minds he could read. However with Crawford, Schuldig had to take everything at face-value, even if he had his doubts, and it was a flaw that the American was more than willing to exploit.

And since he'd convinced Schuldig to stay out of his way, he could have all the time he wanted with Weiss' redheaded leader.

Crawford, for one of the few times in his life, was excited about something.

"Soon Ran," he grinned, "…soon…"


	19. Playboy

Breakdown

Chapter 19: **Playboy**

Yohji pitied the Chibi when the blond arrived home from school and found himself sharing a shift with Ran, a far more silent and quietly hostile Ran at that. His heart especially went out to the boy when Omi, in his concern, was silly enough to ask Ran where he had been all night. The look the redhead had given him then had certainly cowed him. For the rest of the shift Omi had done his best to stay out of Ran's way, occupying himself by tending to the fan girls—which was wise, but considering the blond boy was Weiss' equivalent of a happy puppy, it hurt Yohji to see the boy walking around with his tail between his legs…which also prompted naughty thoughts that Yohji decided would be best to push aside until the boy was no longer jailbait. So after reprimanding his libido a few times, Yohji went back to feeling sorry for the little blond hacker as he watched him and the goings on of the shop from the storeroom.

Unlike Ran when he had decided to oversee a shift, Yohji didn't stand right out in the open, but decided to observe discreetly from the shadows—or another room as it were. The reason, apart from not wanting to be made to do extra work, was that Ran would undoubtedly kill anyone who tried to supervise his shift. A quick mental equation made it easy to come to the conclusion that a covert observation of the moody redhead was the way to go; because essentially, an angry Ran, plus a long sharp blade, equaled a very unhappy, if not dead, Yohji. The little animated playboy summing up the values in his head gave Yohji the thumbs up for secrecy.

And what the blond learned from watching Ran on shift was that the redhead had obviously risen a few more points on the tight-ass meter since their chat in his bedroom. The fan girls also seemed to catch on to the fact that Ran was more frosty than usual because most of the flock had chosen to hover around the slightly more docile, yet still cheery, Omi. Yohji had to give the girls credit for that one; they were smarter than he thought. Or maybe it was just survival instinct kicking in. But whatever that case, all who frequented the shop seemed to sense the drop in temperature around the redhead. Yohji half expected to see a glistening trail of ice form behind Ran as he walked around the shop.

"What are you doing in here, Kudou?" Ran appeared in the doorway of the storeroom, standing back-lit and looking oh so ominous with his tight lips, folded arms and intense glare. Yohji nearly leapt out of his skin when he saw him. Suddenly he'd been too busy thinking about Ran to actually keep an eye on him.

"Aya," he laughed nervously as he got up from his crouched position behind bags of potting soil, dusting off his pants. "I was just uh…" he glanced around quickly, looking for inspiration for a lie, "…taking inventory?"

Ran's eyes narrowed even more. "In the dark, Kudou? With no pen and paper?"

"Um," the playboy scratched the back of his head, "I thought I would do a mental sweep um…first."

Ran growled softly, clearly not impressed with the lie. He grabbed a nearby broom and thrust it into the blonde's hands. "You want to be on shift? Then why don't you _actually_ sweep?" He was about to leave after grabbing a pair of trimmers, but then stopped short and instead gave Yohji a shove. "Do you think I'm _stupid_, Kudou? I know what you're doing in here and I _don't_ need a babysitter!"

Yohji rubbed his chest, frowning. "Aya, that's not what—"

"I'm your fucking leader! You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"Aya, calm down," Yohji said quietly, glancing nervously out of the storeroom, not wanting the redhead to attract the attention of the fan girls, or Omi for that matter. "I know you can take care of yourself. I was just—"

"Spying," Ran hissed.

"Worried," Yohji corrected him, still not raising his voice. They both didn't need to be hot under the collar. "Are you sure you're alright, Aya?"

"Didn't you hear me this morning, Kudou?" Ran snapped. "I'm fine. I don't need you to baby me and I don't _want_ you to check up on me. I'm not hurt and I want to be left alone. Why can't you understand that?"

"Because I don't think that's what you really want, Aya," said Yohji, staring him in the eye, "I think you're tired of being alone. And I think you're pissed off today because you let someone get close to you yesterday and it scared the hell out of you because you realized you liked it."

Ran's mouth gaped slightly before the angry scowl returned in full force. "You don't know what you're talking about, Kudou."

"Don't I?" Yohji watched him silently for a moment before he grinned slightly. "You know it's fine if you like men, Aya. You don't have to be ashamed about that. None of us are going to judge you, and we already know that I swing both ways. So what's the big deal?"

"This…this isn't about that," Ran growled softly in embarrassment, forced to lower his gaze to try and hide a blush, not that Yohji had any trouble seeing the sudden colour on his normally pale cheeks.

The blond grinned. "So what's your type then, Aya? Was he short and burly? Lanky? your typical tall dark and handsome? What?" Yohji was both teasing and fishing. If Ran liked guys, he was curious whether or not he'd have a shot with him. And he figured he'd have at least a 75 chance of wooing Ran when the redhead flushed a little more at the last option. Yohji was at least tall and handsome, and maybe he could dye his hair to create the full package.

"Ah…so our Ice Queen likes his dark studs," he continued to smirk, "Somehow I just knew they'd be the type to get you all hot and heavy, Aya." Ran's eyes shot up to his and Yohji didn't think he'd ever seen such an intense shade of red before, even on a rose.

"Kudou," the redhead whispered dangerously, even though his face showed nothing but shock. Yohji figured it was just because his muscles had finally been worn out by all the scowling and had gone on strike, so he began backing away for his life, knowing that he was about to eat fist…or foot, or both.

"Guys?" There was a soft knock on the storeroom door, followed by Omi's quiet voice. "Manx is here. We have a mission."

Yohji sighed loudly, never before feeling so relieved to hear those words. "Okay Chibi," he hurried past Ran, knowing the redhead wouldn't lash out at him with Omi present, though he was treated to a death glare to end all death glares as he made his retreat.

This obviously was not over and Yohji knew that thanks to him, the climate of the Koneko would be sub-zero for quite some time. All he could hope was that the mission would be enough to take Ran's mind off of killing him for at least a few days, enough time to get his affairs in order and say good-bye to a few friends…maybe even get in one last good lay.

Sometimes it was so very dangerous being Yohji Kudou.


	20. Assassins Part 1

**Breakdown**

Chapter 20: **Assassins Part** **1**

/Oracle, the kittens are here/

/Good. Stick to your mark, Mastermind/

/_Ja_ _ja_. I know, _Mutter. _You already told me a million times/

/Just make sure you do it. You know what's at stake/

/…_Ja_...Well…Gotta go, Oracle. Berserker's chomping at the bit and my kitty's waiting/

"As is mine…"Crawford smirked as the mental link closed.

* * *

**Berserker**

Farfarello was killing time, as only the mad Irishman could, dicing up the guards he and Schuldig had taken care of a short while ago. It had been fun at first, but now he was getting antsy; his stabbing becoming harsher and more manic as a result, needing to entertain himself with more carnage since his playthings had all stopped responding to his 'game' well over forty slashes ago. He was losing interest.

Schuldig put a halt to his mindless slashing of the dead guard he was currently hunched over by walking into his line of vision and giving him a nudge with his foot, which he barely registered.

"Leave the dead guy alone, Berserker," the German said tiredly, equally as bored, if not more so since he had done nothing but mope in a corner since they had secured the area. "We got some kitties to play with."

Farfarello grinned at the words and instantly forgot about the mutilated guard beneath him, rising to his feet, a wicked gleam in his one seeing eye. He followed the German into the shadows like the good boy that he was, hands still clenching two bloody knives excitedly, knowing exactly which Weiss kitten he'd be shaking hands with.

It wasn't long before their enemies arrived on the scene, and it took even less time for the two arriving Weiss assassins to realize that something was very wrong, having spotted the Irishman's handiwork.

Farfarello's one good eye narrowed in delight as he spotted his target, noticing the brunette tensing up and readying his bugnuks as his companion spoke into his communicator to their missing team members.

"Abyssinian. Bombay. We got a problem…"

Schuldig made his move then and Farfarello watched him step out of the shadows and into Weiss' line of vision.

"Problem?" he said, with what only Farfarello would know was feigned amusement, "I don't see a problem. Do you, Berserker?" The German gave Farfarello a false grin as he stepped up beside him.

Farfarello shook his head, returning the gesture with far more conviction behind it, as he stared ahead at his favourite kitten, watching him crouch low, prepared to charge into attack or defend himself. He liked playing with the brunette most of all because he was hot-headed and threw himself into harms way more easily than any of the other kittens during battle. Farfarello was just itching to make him bleed; knowing that his screams would be far more satisfying to his ears than the deceased guards' had been.

"Schwartz," Siberian and Balinese both growled as one, narrowing their eyes at their respective partners in battle, the tall blond reaching for his garrote wire and the brunette tightening his fists in anticipation.

Schuldig snorted at their reactions and folded his arms. "Aww. They don't look like they're happy to see us," he whined childishly. "Maybe we should give them as warm a welcome as those guards, huh Berserker?"  
The Irishman caught the redhead's sudden smirk and understood his words to be the go ahead to let loose and play.

* * *

**Balinese**

Maybe Yohji was just imagining it, or finally going crazy, but he could swear that Schwartz's Mastermind was trying to kill him. Now he knew that he was being ridiculous in thinking it, since as assassins for rival organizations, they were _meant_ to try and kill each other, but usually the enemy redhead took more enjoyment in trying to off him.

To Yohji, it had always been more of a deadly survival game where he just had to last it out until Schwartz was called off, but now…now Mastermind seemed more hell bent on getting rid of him, or at least beating him to a pulp. Yohji didn't know how he'd managed to piss off the German that much, but filling redheads with murderous rage seemed to be a pastime of his as of late.

"What's wrong, Balinese? Can't keep up?" Schuldig hissed as he once again leveled Yohji to the floor with a swift punch to the face, the second hit that connected hard enough to make his ears ring. The redhead followed through with an intended kick to his side, but Yohji managed to dodge the blow by rolling out of the way.

Immediately, he took the offense and flicked out his garrote wire, lassoing the German's wrist as he reached inside his god awful green blazer for his gun, managing to pull it out half way before Yohji gave the wire a sharp yank and the weapon flew out of the telepath's grip and slid across the floor. The blond shot to his feet afterwards and kneed the German in the stomach, releasing the wire from his wrist.

"Oh I dunno," he drawled, "Thought I was doing pretty well." He took the opportunity as Schuldig coughed and hunched over to deck him hard across the jaw, returning the favour from before. He then darted a quick glance across the room to where Ken was fighting Farfarello to make sure the brunette hadn't met the same fate as the guards.

His teammate was bleeding in a few places that he could see, but he was still on his feet and fighting with the same ferocity as he normally did so Yohji figured he wouldn't have to jump in to help him just yet.

It was while Yohji's attention was diverted for those few seconds that Schuldig hit him again, a low blow that dropped him immediately and left him dizzy and his eyes watering. He curled up on himself and moaned in agony. Wasn't there a rule somewhere about hitting below the belt?

"Looks like pretty well's not good enough, Kitty," Schuldig said darkly, staring down at Yohji with disgust. All the blond could do in response was moan, still in too much pain to curse the German out for the underhanded maneuver.

"_Balinese, report. What's going on?"_ Omi's anxious voice sounded in his earpiece, and it took a great deal of effort, but Yohji managed to make his groans sound something like 'Schwartz…playing…dirty…'

Schuldig scoffed as he listened to the private conversation and kicked the ailing blond again, growing impatient after he wouldn't move. "Swallow them back down and get up!" he half growled, "What kind of assassin are you?"

'An agonized one?' Yohji thought, taking a deep breath and swallowing. He rolled over onto his other side and attempted to climb to his feet. It was very slow going, but he managed it without making to much noise, though he couldn't yet stand at his full height.

"Fucking…low," he whispered angrily, his voice half an octave higher than usual.

Schuldig snorted. "Sorry Kitty. Forgot to read the rule book."

"Oh, so you can read?" Yohji answered back with narrowed eyes, straightening up a little.

The redhead tossed his head at the childish comment. "Cheap, Balinese. Very uninventive. But then again, you were never the brains of you outfit. Everyone knows what organ you think with."

Yohji grunted. "Thought we had that in common."

Schuldig smirked at that, apparently calming slightly as the familiar banter began between them "_Ja_. You got me there."

"So tell me," Yohji said, getting his voice back as he charged at the German, hitting him with a flurry of punches and kicks, some of which connected, "Whose bed did you wake up on the wrong side of?"

It had been an intended joke, one which would normally have earned him a snort of laugher from the telepath, but this time Yohji didn't quite get the reaction he had been hoping for. Instead the redhead tensed and gave him a death glare before hitting him with a mental blast.

Yohji hit the ground hard, though he didn't feel it as it felt as if his whole body was floating, except for his head, which might as well have been cinched tightly in a vice. It was the equivalent of a hundred hangovers rolled into one, or so his calculations told him. He didn't even realize that his nose was bleeding until he felt it drip into the corner of his mouth and tasted the coppery liquid. All the sounds around him became like static, nothing but white noise, but he heard enough of what Schuldig shouted to his companion then to make his blood run cold.

"_He _Berserker! My kitty's broken. Come finish it off."

* * *

**Oracle**

Crawford smirked to himself as he lifted his blade, hearing the sharp clang as he intercepted the angry redhead's blade; milliseconds before it would have lopped his head clear off. He didn't bother turning his gaze up to see the shock and anger in Ran's eyes; he could see the man's face clearly enough in the reflection in the window.

"Good evening, Ran," he welcomed him in his deep voice, "I'm glad you could make it."


	21. Assassins Part 2

**Breakdown**

Chapter 21: **Assassins Part** **2**

**Abyssinian**

Ran was livid, tense, and liable to explode. Not only had Schwartz once again beaten his team to their target and stayed to gloat about it, but the Oracle had just now reminded him of his incredible stupidity a few nights previous when he had revealed his true name to him.

"What's the matter, Ran?" Crawford purred. "You're shaking. You aren't nervous around me, are you?" He turned his gaze from the window and up to meet Ran's, the amusement in his eyes only intensifying. "You shouldn't be. Not after we were so close that night."

As much as he tried, Ran couldn't stop his body from trembling with rage. "Schwartz," he growled as he raised and swung his sword down at his enemy's head. Crawford easily blocked the strike and pushed against him as he stood up, forcing Ran back a few paces.

"Oracle, actually," the American corrected him with a slight grin. "Why do you Weiss Kittens always have to address us individually as Schwartz? We each have singular codenames, Ran."

The redhead's eyes flared. "Stop calling me Ran!" he shouted and attacked again, meeting nothing but the cold steel of Crawford's blade.

The American chuckled. "But you asked me to call you that."

"Well stop," Ran snapped, pushing against Crawford's sword, which gave very little despite the force he exerted. The American was still stronger than him.

"What are you still doing here anyway?" he demanded, seeing the lifeless body of the man he had come to kill, propped up against the side of the desk.  
"I am taking care of business. What else?" Crawford answered simply

"He was mine," Ran intoned angrily, having looked forward to taking out the target since Manx had brought his team the mission. He had desperately needed to blow off steam, and since Yohji had been making himself scarce since their altercation in the storeroom, an evil sonuvabitch would have been the next best choice.

Ran drew his sword back for another strike, but Crawford met his blade with his own and kicked out at the redhead's legs, narrowly missing him as he Ran jumped back to avoid the blow. "By all means," he said, "Have him. I have no business with him."

"Of course you don't anymore. You killed him." Ran lunged. Crawford parried and struck back to knock the redhead's sword away as he reached out to grab his coat, yanking him forward.

"Only so I could have his office for my personal business." He leaned down, whispering in the redhead's ear. Ran couldn't help giving a soft shudder, but immediately jerked back, holding his sword in defense in front of him.

"What are you talking about?" His grip tightened on the hilt.

Crawford adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and smirked. "Isn't it obvious? My business is all about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now, Ran—Excuse me, Abyssinian. You aren't your blond companion. You shouldn't be acting so thick. You can understand a simple statement, can't you? I'm here for you."

Ran's eyes narrowed, registering the comment the only way he knew how, as a threat. He bared his teeth and readied his sword. "You won't kill me, Oracle. Come and get me."

There was a predatory gleam in his eye as Crawford smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

Something in his tone and gaze made Ran's heart beat faster, though he understood the change in pulse as purely an influx of adrenaline. His heart rate continued to rise as Crawford rushed him and forced him back towards the other end of the office. Realizing that he would soon have his back to the wall, Ran quickly switched to the offensive and had no trouble pressing forward, which made the redhead begin to wonder if Crawford was letting him get the upper hand. It wasn't until Ran had come close enough for the American to make a grab at him that he understood why, but he was quick enough with his sword and he managed to slice the Oracle's wrist before he could get a hold of his neck. No way was he letting himself be choked to death.

Ran felt his communicator get tugged from of his ear as Crawford hissed and pulled his hand back, but it didn't bother him. His opponent was bleeding and he smirked. "You're wounded. You should give up," he said, watching the blood absorb into the white fabric of Crawford's jacket.

The American, however, didn't seem bothered at all by the wound and he smiled at the redhead. "It's a small price to pay for not being interrupted." He held up the broken ear piece of Ran's communicator before tossing it across the room. Ran's eyes went wide, realizing that it had all been planned, the cut off of communication to his team.

Crawford took advantage of his shock and attacked him again, slamming his sword against Ran's to send a painful vibration along the shaft and to his wrist. The redhead gritted his teeth and tried admirably to regain the upper hand, but even with a two-hand advantage, Crawford still managed to disarm him.

Ran's weapon had barely struck the carpet before he was already diving for it. That was when a shot was fired, a warning, directly between his hand and his sword. The Weiss assassin pulled his hand back and glared up at the enemy. Schwartz could never fight fair. Somehow there was always a gun.

Crawford kept his weapon leveled on the redhead as he walked over and picked up the kattana. "Be a good kitten now, Abyssinian. We were getting along so well a few nights ago. What's changed?"

'Alcohol,' Ran thought, but didn't say. "Nothing," he growled instead, "We were enemies then, and we are enemies now."

"Enemies with some understanding of each other."

"I don't understand you." Ran countered and Crawford grinned.

"I could have killed you then, but I didn't, you know."

"Your mistake."

A soft snort. "You didn't kill me either," Crawford added.

Ran narrowed his eyes. His mistake. And he had to live with it. And he was also getting tired of the all the chit chat. What the hell did the Oracle want with him?

He moved to get up and was surprised that Crawford let him. The American even put his gun away and set the blades down on the desk. To Ran, it was a very idiotic move. Crawford had definitely had the upper hand, and now they were both unarmed…mostly. As long as Crawford wasn't that quick of a draw.

Was this supposed to be a truce or some kind of trick? Ran couldn't be sure. And he watched the dark-haired man warily for a few minutes before taking a chance and going for his sword.

His wrists were grabbed and pinned together before he even had a chance to register the movement. Crawford held his arms above his head and pulled him to stand in front of him. "You're so predictable sometimes, Ran."

The redhead growled at the use of the name, and because he was more or less helpless. More or less. Crawford could only hold him with one hand since Ran had sliced his other wrist, so maybe if he wriggled enough, he could break free.

The American chuckled and wrapped his other hand around the assassin's wrists, squeezing them together and making him wince. "Don't get excited. The cut isn't so deep and I can withstand the pain."

"What do you want, Oracle?" Ran grimaced as pressure was put on his wrists again, and he was pushed back against the side of the desk, pinned nicely in place by Crawford's own body. Ran flushed, and his glare faltered as Crawford leaned forward, getting close enough for Ran to smell his cologne. It quickly brought back memories of the bar. Memories he desperately wanted to forget.

In the meantime, all he could do was turn his face to the side and hold his breath, which made Crawford chuckle. Ran repeated the question in a strained voice, but the American still didn't answer. Instead he undid the collar of Ran's jacket with one hand and began to nuzzle his neck. The redhead's eyes widened and he once again struggled to break free, feeling his face heat up. Crawford bit his neck in warning and Ran tensed and took a sharp intake of breath.

"Stop…" He hissed, moving his chin down to try and cover his neck, but the dark-haired man held it out of the way, nipping his jaw.

"Stop what, Ran?" Crawford cooed softly, clearly amused by the redhead's soft panting.

"Stop THIS!" Ran growled, almost having to force out the words.

"I'm afraid you're not being specific enough."

"St-mmph." Ran's protest was muffled by a pair of soft lips.

**

* * *

**

**Bombay**

"Siberian! Report! What's going on?" The blond hacker shouted into his communicator, panicked face lit up by the glow of his laptop. It was so difficult being stuck on the outside, dealing with security systems via his computer, while his friends needed him on the inside. The worst of it was he didn't know where his entire team was. Ran had stopped communicating once he'd spotted the target's office and gone in for the kill. Omi had no idea if he was alright. He desperately hoped it was just a dead communicator. He didn't want to think about what the other option could be.

"Bombay! Need help!" Ken's strained voice came over the feed. It was obvious he was having one hell of a time fending off Schwartz. Omi then listened to him shouting for Ran, and his worry for his teammates only increased. According to Ken, Yohji was already down for the count and since Ran wasn't responding, maybe that meant he was out of the picture too. Either way, Weiss needed to get out of there and fast before Omi lost all his team members.

"I'm coming to help, Siberian. I'll create a diversion so you can get Balinese out of there."

Omi listened to a lot of grunts and struggling before Ken said anything. "Abyssinian," he heard his teammate say.

The blond bit his lip. "I don't know where he is. He's not answering, but I'll find him. Just get Balinese out."

"No Bombay. Abyssinian's here. And Schwartz is moving out."

The teen blinked, "Is he okay?"

"Fine. I guess." Ken said between his panting. "We'll see you in a bit, Bombay."

"Right."

**

* * *

**

**Siberian**

The ex-soccer player stared at his red-headed teammate. His hair was tussled, his clothes were mussed and there was blood dripping from his lip. Ken was glad to see that he and Yohji hadn't been the only ones to see some action, but at the same time he was also a little annoyed that he himself looked like he'd been put through the ringer, and Ran just looked like he'd come from a heated make-out session. If only Ran had gotten to play with Berserker and Mastermind instead of him.

"You get the bastard?" he asked Ran, forcing back a jealous scowl as he went over to pick up Balinese, grunting with the effort. Not only was he tired, but Yohji was one hell of a dead weight when he was unconscious.

Ran only nodded and helped Ken by hooking Yohji's other arm around his neck. Together they walked their friend out and deposited him in the passenger seat of Ran's white Porsche.

"Take him to get looked at," Ken said, "Me and Bombay'll head home and start the report."

Again all he got was a nod and it bothered Ken. Ran never said much, but as their leader, he at least gave orders. Ken expected something more than a head shake, especially after a hectic mission like this one had been.

He put a hand on the driver's side door after Ran had gotten behind the wheel. "You okay?"

"Fine," Ran finally managed, his voice gravelly. Ken decided to chalk it down to the battle he must have been in, though at the same time it conjured up images that wouldn't be so out of place in Yohji's mind. He shook his head and removed his hand from the car after a quick scowl from his leader, stepping back so Ran could pull out.

"…see you later." Ken said weakly, and waved off the exhaust as Ran peeled out.

If nothing else came from this mission, it would at least make an interesting report.


	22. Prodigy

Breakdown

Chapter 22: **Prodigy**

Nagi had no doubts that he wouldn't be getting to sleep that evening. He was certain of it when he climbed into Schuldig's car with Farfarello after they'd been called off the mission by Crawford. It was obvious that the German was furious, which was a rarity after a mission because usually Schuldig delighted in passing the time by loudly recounting the events of the mission and how he had tormented Weiss or killed the target. But this mission had obviously gone differently, because this was not the same Schuldig. This Schuldig was disturbingly silent, which led Nagi to believe that he was inwardly fuming, and a quiet Schuldig was far more dangerous and unpredictable than the usual loud, mischievous one.

Nagi figured that he'd have to try and get the details of what had happened from Farfarello once they'd arrived back at the safe house, which would be an interesting task considering truth and fantasy were often interchangeable with the Irishman. The teen would have to pick and choose what to believe from the story.

Sometimes Nagi really hated the missions where he didn't get to participate in the fighting. It always made him feel left out of the loop, this time especially. Apparently he had missed something really juicy back there.

Nagi peered out of the corner of his eye at the German as he sat in the passenger seat of his car, wondering what was going on in the redhead's mind. Sadly, telekinesis wasn't helpful in this case; neither were his hacking skills. It seemed that he'd just have to let his genius mind form its own hypotheses.

And then Farfarello spoke up from the backseat, shedding some light on the situation. "Crawford was sure gone a long time, right Schu? I wonder what he was doin'." Nagi heard the leather on Schuldig's steering wheel creak as his hands tightened on it, giving him a starting point for his hypothesis. Clearly Schuldig was angry with their leader again.

Farfarello grinned from his seat, staring at Schuldig's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Didn't see the red kitty all night. Maybe Crawford was playin' with 'im," he said thoughtfully, and Nagi's breath hitched in his throat as Schuldig's teeth clenched and he suddenly stepped on the gas, beginning to weave recklessly between cars. He heard Farfarello chuckling in the back and wished that the Irishman would keep further observations to himself, at least until they were safely parked.

Nearly home, Nagi even debated whether or not he should get out at a stop-light with Farfarello and walk or take a cab the rest of the way, but for public safety, the teen decided to risk staying in the car. Farfarello was probably still wound-up from the earlier fighting, and the police would almost definitely be called if anyone saw the blood-covered albino. After taking part in a murder, it was best to stay away from the authorities. He just had to hope that Schuldig wouldn't be pulled over for his driving.

So Nagi sat quietly, barely daring to breathe, while dreading another backseat comment and police sirens. When Schuldig screeched to a stop in front of the safe-house, Nagi exhaled in relief and quickly scrambled out of the car, opening the back door for his crazed teammate. "Come on," he whispered hastily, determined not to be the cause of, or be around for the inevitable blow-out.

Farfarello grinned wickedly at the back of Schuldig's head, seeming to know that there was a battle on the horizon, and slid out of the car, following the boy to the front door. "Somebody's gonna get shot," he chuckled. "Who're you bettin' on?"

Nagi frowned and opened the door. "No one," he replied in his usual monotone as they entered the house, glancing back over his shoulder once to see Schuldig still sitting in his car, hands clench around the steering wheel.

"Crawford better watch his arse," Farfarello said, "Schuldig's really pissed off."

"I know," Nagi answered and walked off to the bathroom to go about the usual after mission routine with the albino. Typically it was Schuldig's duty to make sure Farfarello got cleaned up, but the teen decided to take on the task himself since the German clearly had other things on his mind. It made no difference to Farfarello who helped him anyway.

"They should just take my advice and fuck already before Red explodes," Farfarello repeated his earlier advice, to which Nagi still had no comment. He frankly didn't want to think of his teammates getting together in that way.

"Get cleaned up," he told the Irishman as a way to end the conversation, shutting the bathroom door behind them, just as another door slammed open and Schuldig began yelling.

"What the hell were you doing in that office, Bradley!? Or should I say WHO were you doing!?" Schuldig roared, causing Nagi to flinch and Farfarello to snicker.

"Crawford's home…" he said amid his laughter. Nagi missed his leader's response, but whatever Crawford had said had pissed Schuldig off even more.

"You know that's not what I'm fucking talking about!" the German shouted and Nagi frowned at Farfarello, trying to shush him so he could hear Crawford, but only managed to catch more of Schuldig's yelling. "Oh no you don't! Don't you DARE try to blow me off. We're—" there was an abrupt pause and a few seconds later Schuldig spoke again, voice less shrill this time. "Fine," he said. "Fucking fine. But you better not hold anything back, Bradley Crawford."

Nagi listened to two sets of footsteps walk down the hall and past the bathroom. He knew Schuldig was in the lead by the stomping, and at the end of the hall, a door shut and locked, the battle taking place in Crawford's office. Nagi strained to hear more, but he couldn't catch anything. Their leader liked his privacy enough to have had his office sound-proofed.

Farfarello chuckled again. "It's rude to eavesdrop, you know," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

The teen frowned and pointed to the shower. "You know what to do," he said, "Go get cleaned-up."

Farfarello grinned. "My money's on Red," he said before stripping down and dropping his clothes on the floor. He reached for a knife to take into the shower with him, but Nagi pulled his vest away and frowned at him until he turned like a good boy and stepped into the shower, sitting on the floor. Nagi set his vest down on the counter and walked over, filling a bucket with lukewarm water. He then handed the Irishman a sponge so he could begin wiping off the blood.

Everything had to be carefully monitored with Farfarello, even when it came to a simple thing like bathing because, being unable to feel anything, the albino was prone to try and scald himself with boiling water. The bucket ensured that he didn't. And in the off-chance that a razor was brought into the shower, Farfarello would be unable to reach it while sitting.

"Go on. Ask me." The Irishman said while roughly scrubbing at his arms, pulling off his bandages at the same time. He was in a strangely talkative mood. "You want to know why Schuldig's suddenly crazier than I am."

The teen frowned deeply and nodded. "All I heard was Crawford tell Schuldig to stick to his mark, and then he was calling us back. What happened during the mission?"

Farfarello snickered. "It's pretty simple. Schu wants Crawford's arse, but Crawford won't bend over for him. It looks like he'd rather stick it to the pretty Weiss kitty."

Nagi's frown deepened. "Are you referring to Abyssinian?"

The albino fixed him with his Cheshire grin. "Do you think there's another pretty Weiss kitty, Nagi?"

The boy blushed and shook his head. "I was just double-checking…" he trailed off and then asked slowly, "Why would it bother Schuldig now? Crawford always fights with Abyssinian."

Farfarello smirked and dropped the sponge into the bucket, apparently deciding that he was clean enough. "For a genius child, you're pretty dumb. Weren't you listenin'? I'm not talkin' about fightin', I'm talking about fuckin'. Schu's jealous 'cause he thinks Crawford wants Abyssinian's arse. And who knows. He probably does. Plus Crawford and Schu usually kill the target together and this time Crawford did it by himself."

In a way, Nagi felt he could believe the latter reasoning, but he had difficulty accepting the former. He shook his head as he handed Farfarello a towel and then got up to fetch some fresh bandages from the cabinet. "But that doesn't make any sense," he objected, picking apart the main argument. "Crawford wouldn't go for someone on a rival team. It would be stupid."

Farfarello chuckled and stood up. "A suppressed sex-drive can make a man do very stupid things. Crawford probably has his reasons."

Nagi thought about it quietly for a while as he bandaged Farfarello's arms and eventually came to the conclusion that he didn't to believe what the Irishman was saying. The man that he thought of as something of a father-figure couldn't be involved with a rival assassin team in a sexual or friendly manner. It was simply impossible. Farfarello and Schuldig could keep their chaos theories, but Nagi refused to buy into them. It just wasn't logical.

Discerning the look on his face, Farfarello chuckled, glancing away to concentrate on putting on his clothes. "You don't believe me, lad, but you'll see," he said.

Nagi shook his head and walked him back to his room once he was fully dressed, eager to finish off his duties and get away from Farfarello's crazy hypotheses. After strapping his teammate into his jacket for the night, he left him and walked back down the hall to his own bedroom, trying his best to ignore the chanting, but even as he closed his door, he could still make out to the words, "You'll see…you'll see…you'll see…"

And maybe he would. He just wasn't looking forward to it.


	23. Red

Breakdown

Chapter 23: **Red**

Schuldig didn't sit as he normally did upon entering his leader's office. He couldn't, for fear that if he stopped moving he would explode from all the pent-up anger. So instead he paced, burning a rut in the carpet as Crawford sat calmly behind his desk, watching him.

"Well!?" the German growled when he got tired of listening to his own heavy breathing and not Crawford's explanation as to what had gone on during the mission. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"Not presently, no. But I'm sure you have a question you want answered," the American replied calmly and Schuldig bristled.

"Yeah I got a fucking question, Bradley. I asked you already! What the fuck happened to your face?"

"It got a little rough with the kitten. Anything else?"

"Oh, I bet it got rough," the German snarled. "I've taken part in my fair share of rough play, Bradley. I know that's a bite. What'd you do? Fall onto the kitty's lips!?"

Crawford's mouth quirked into a taunting half smile, "Leaned into them, actually…It's as you put it Schuldig. Just a little bit of rough play between Abyssinian and I."

The redhead lost it then, kicking over a chair as he let out a feral growl. "So THAT'S it!?" he yelled, slamming his hands down on Crawford's desk, "THAT'S why you wanted me to stick to Balinese? So you could have some alone time with your new pet!?"

"You catch on quickly." Crawford observed. "I'm happy I don't have to spell it out for you."

"Oh I think you fucking DO, Bradley!" Schuldig continued his angry tirade, a cover for his hurt. "What the hell are you playing at?!" If Crawford had wanted someone to fuck around with, he was ready, willing and able. Had been for ages and his leader knew it. Why couldn't he have come to him instead of going to the enemy?

"I'm getting under his skin, Schuldig. Having a little fun with Abyssinian. So keep your voice down and your jealousy at bay."

Schuldig sneered. As if it was possible for him not to be jealous. "You kissed him?" he snapped, not needing an answer, but wanting to hear an admission all the same.

"I did," said Crawford, his smirk widening, "And HE managed to stay conscious."

"_Arschloch!_" The telepath's eyes flared along with his temper at the jab to his ego, and he angrily swiped the neatly stacked papers off the Oracle's desk, yelling curses in every language he knew before leaning forward over the desk. "Why are you doing this to me, Bradley!?" he demanded.

A dark eyebrow rose as Crawford sat back in his chair, distancing himself from the German. "What makes you think this has anything to do with you, Schuldig?"

"Maybe because you're being such an asshole to me all of a sudden. We're supposed to be teammates, but you're lying and keeping things from me. I mean—I act as your fucking chauffeur and I don't even get a thank you, and you piss on me for everything I do. What gives?"

"Are you honestly asking me that question? You're the one who's suddenly acting childish and giving me reason to berate you."

"Oh. THIS is all MY fault."

"Is that a question or an admission?" Crawford asked simply and something snapped in Schuldig then. Had he been in a more lucid state of mind, he would have asked if Crawford had also heard the loud pop, but instead he just lunged over the desk and tackled his boss, knocking him and the chair to the ground, his hands firmly around the American's neck, squeezing. Crawford wasn't down for long however. He grabbed the redhead's right forearm tightly, and with the palm of his other hand, shoved upwards, nearly dislocating the telepath's arm at the elbow. Schuldig screeched in pain and let go and was promptly shoved to the ground, cradling his hurt arm while he moaned.

The American stood up calmly and straightened his clothes, rubbing his neck for only a few seconds before dropping his arm back to his side and narrowing his gaze down at his teammate. "Are you through with your tantrum or do you plan to continue? If so, tell me now so I can save time and perhaps break your arm this time."

Schuldig merely gave a defeated whimper and stared at the ground, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had come. The Oracle took this opportunity to right his chair and recollect all the papers the redhead has strewn on the floor. As he finished straightening up, Schuldig spoke again.

"Why him?" he asked in a quiet, miserable voice.

"Why not?" Crawford replied, "He's repressed and vulnerable."

"…so that's what you go for? An ice queen with a stick up his ass?"

"Oh I doubt there's been any stick up his ass as of yet, but I may change that."

The redhead tried to laugh derisively, but it only came out as a whimper as he struggled to sit up and lean against the drawers of Crawford's desk. He stiffened as he felt a hand reach under his elbow and one slide under his arm, helping him to his feet. He couldn't bring himself to turn and face his leader, and he hated himself for enjoying his touch, even if the man had hurt him moments before.

His arm was practically broken and he still wanted to shove his tongue down Crawford's throat. How pathetic could he be?

Schuldig flinched as Crawford moved his hand from his underarm to his neck, gently playing with his long hair before combing it out of the way with his fingers so he could whisper in his ear. "This is the second time you've attacked me, Schuldig," Crawford said in a quiet, authoritative voice, with a slight hint of malice mixed in for good measure. "I could easily report you to Esset."

The German felt his heart plummet into his stomach at the those words, but he kept up a strong enough façade, even going so far as to make his own threat. "…I could tell on you too, Bradley…"

Crawford purred deeply and leaned closer, warm breath ghosting over Shuldig's ear as he spoke. "You know you won't, Schuldig. You wouldn't want to hurt the man you love..." And with that, he pulled away, leaving the telepath stunned and shaking where he stood. Schuldig didn't even get a chance to reply before Crawford had gone and shut the office door behind him, leaving him with those lovely parting words to mull over and a throbbing elbow.

* * *

Apologies to Schu's fans if you think he's getting a rough deal. Can't help making Crawford such a bastard, but there should be happy times on the horizon for the poor telepath…Maybe. Hopefully! 


End file.
